


A Girl Named Panic (Revised)

by Raven6224



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-03
Updated: 2018-08-14
Packaged: 2019-04-18 00:33:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 27,892
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14201068
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Raven6224/pseuds/Raven6224
Summary: *Rewrite* Panic knows her father is Tony Stark, the genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist, and she wants nothing to do with him. She's never wants to meet the man who had a one-night stand with her mother. She's been on her own for years and can take care of herself. Why would she need him? After a kidnapping and meeting the Avengers, Panic's trying to keep her secret intact





	1. Troublemaker

      Why is darkness the universal code for doing illegal shit?

        I mean seriously, here I am in the dead hours of the night in the center of New York City, climbing through a rosebush. Which, by the way, is slicing like knives at my skin. Hell, if my Mom could see me now, she'd label me a troublemaker. It's not so much my intention to be one, it's just in my nature. Like an addiction, just can't fight it.

        Not that it surprises me. Given my lineage. When my mother was still kicking, she'd always tell me I got most of my personality from my idiot of a father. I hate that. There's nothing I wish more in this godforsaken world than for Anthony Edward Stark to not be my father. I supposed it doesn't matter in the long run. It's not like he even knows about my existence.

        Most kids with only one parent growing up with have that urge to meet their missing one. That want to close the gap in their heritage. To meet the person who makes up the other half of the DNA. Yeah, well, that's not me. I don't want to meet that billionaire, playboy, philanthropist. What with his egotistic tendencies, obsession with flying around in metal suits of armor, and only caring for his precious girlfriend, Virginia "Pepper" Potts.

        The woman who used to be his personal assistant. It was sickeningly obvious that she liked him, the way she drooled over him like a puppy was key. Not that Tony noticed for a hella long time, no, he was far to busy nailing every woman from New York to Malibu, California. What with the playboy mansion he's got down there.

        Ha! I bet that he's sitting in his billion dollar mansion tinkering away with the latest Iron Man Armor while I, his bastard daughter, lives in an alley in the depths of New York. And that's to my shitty luck, my "home sweet home" happens to face Stark Towers.

        Stupid building, always mocking me as if I were some silly little kid. It's bright blue lights splaying out among the darkness of night and showering the city in its blue glow. I can't count how many times I've sat huddled up in a ratty and torn blanket and watched the building. It looked expensive, more than I could ever afford. For Tony Stark though, I bet it's the equivalent of a low-income woman buying a pack of gum for eight-five cents.

        Rolling my eyes at the image, I shake myself back to the present. It's nearing midnight now and I need to get to work. This bank won't break into itself. If this were some dramatic soap-opera, the audience would be wailing at the screen. "No, don't. It's wrong."

        To which I would laugh my ass off at them. Stealing isn't something I'm proud of, but life isn't lollipops and sunshine and survival is mandatory. My mother's been dead for about five years now, I steal when I have to. Be it food, clothing, money. Whatever I need. It's not like I'm some douchebag teenager who thinks it's fun to rob people, so I only steal from people who can afford it.

        I'm like a modern day Robin Hood.

        But the whole green tights and shit with some bow and arrow like I'm Green Arrow or something is so out of the question. Plus green is really not my color, it looks odd with my red hair.

        As soon as the clock on my crappy old Nokia flip phone, I clutch my heart shaped pendent around my collarbone for luck. The parking lot of the New York City Mint was barren and empty. Not a single car in sight. Perfect. Even if I suspected that to begin with, having already mentally mapped out the plan in my head. Though I wasn't going to be an idiot who didn't have a back-up plan in the case that there were.

        Digging through sources at the Public Library, I found out the the NYC Mint closes at eight. I wanted to make sure that only the other people in the building were the night guards. They're not a big deal anyways. Honestly, they're probably gorging themselves on jelly donuts in the break room.

        I snort in amusement. Though the severity of the situation quickly takes hold. Breaking into a bank in the middle of the night for fifty bucks doesn't sound like the smartest decision. It's not, but I fully acknowledge that. If I was normal, that would bother me. Unfortunately though, I am not and that's thanks to my father. After all, I get my intelligence with machinery from him.

        No matter how much I despise it.

        That's why I have a little trick up my sleeve that makes the entire concept of night guards inconsequential. They won't even see me coming. My heart shaped pendent is more than a decorating piece, it's a gadget of my own creation. Originally it was just a locket, nothing abnormal about it. Then I got a hold of it, fiddled around with some wiring, wove some pieces in, and voilà one homemade criminals dream.

        A simple thing really. Not to mention subtle as no one would suspect a girly necklace to be high tech equipment. It allows the user to turn invisible and intangible by simply tapping the device ever so many times. A single tap to turn the device off, a couple for invisibility, three for intangibility, and four for both. Easy enough.

        Making my move, I tap the sterling silver necklace twice as I climb out from the rosebush. The parking lot in black and empty, but I only have eyes for the fuse box mounted against the side of the bank behind a fence. It's a single gate though, not electrified. So I tug my black gloves up a bit and start the climb, digging my boots into the gaps in the metal.

        By the time I'm at the top, I swing one leg over at a time and just jump from the top. The wind blows through my hair as the ground steadily gets closer, pain ricocheting through my feet and up my body when I meet the concrete.

        I pull out a miniaturized version of the jaws-of-life to cut the bolt lock on the fuse box door. It's like cutting paper with safety scissors. As soon as the creaky door opens, my lip curls at the sight. Even without a mirror, I can tell that my face has to be in a sneer. The sight in the fuse box is insulting to me, such a simple set up that even the dumbest person on the planet should be able to rewire it.

        It doesn't even take a minute for the surveillance camera's to be deactivated. They're on a timer set by me to alert the night guards of their deactivation ten minutes from now. Even though I'll be long gone by then, the point still stands. Having a cruddy system like that is unacceptable.

        What if I really was a grand theft who wanted to steal millions? Any common criminal could blow the fuse box with a car battery. I steal because I'm too young to get a job. Most places won't hire a fifteen year old. Other's steal for selfish reasons. I want to help prevent that, if alerting the business's that I steal from a heads up, so be it. Their updates won't stop me.

        Tapping the device four times, I feel the wave of nausea that comes along with the intangibility. Now all I have to do is get into the vault, take what I need, and get out in less than ten minutes. Casually I stroll right through the white brick wall of the bank and find myself standing in the center of a ginormous round room with a dome-shaped ceiling.

        Hell, there's even a fancy chandelier hanging overhead.

        And yet the department head of this bank refuses to spend the money for a decent security system? Cooperate bullshit. My teeth dig almost painfully into the plump skin of my lip as I fight the urge to drop my head back and cackle at the stupidity of the world around me.

        The bank vault in right behind the teller line. I step through the table separating the tellers from where the customers stand and step easily through the vault door and tap the necklace once. There's no point is draining the battery on my necklace when the inside of the vault doesn't even have camera's in it. Plus, it'll only take a minute to get what I need.

        Thankfully I wore my gloves, the last thing I need is to smear my DNA all over everything. If I did, the police would be able to examine it though lab tests and then all hell would break loose. Everyone, and I do mean everyone, would find out that thee Tony Stark is my father and the media would have a field day with that.

        It would be awful for him and a disaster for me. I'd be labeled as, Tony Stark's Daughter.'

        I'm my own damn person and I do not want to be associate with that son of a bitch. Swiping a fifty from the stack of cash, I tap my necklace four times and easily make my way from the building, sighing at how pathetic this is. Such an easy crime. Just as I step outside, I count off the number of seconds left before the alarms goes off. Five, four, three, two, and...

        Alarms blare loudly. Shrieking out against the silence of the night, overtaking the swoosh of traffic and the honking of horns. I grin and keep on my merry way. No one can see me and not one can pin me to the scene.

        Maybe setting a banks alarm system to go off seems stupid, but like I've said before, I'm not a criminal for kicks. Even if the New York City Mint will never outsmart me, I've wanted them to improve their security system and the only way to make big business do that is to show them the consequences of being such cheap and greedy bastards.

        Plus they should be grateful, instead of me, it could have been some nut job to do it. A maniac with mental issues storming into the bank like an idiot, guns blazing, without any clue as to how guns work and ends up killing a couple people instead of coming up with a cleaver plan.

        I like plans, they make things much less difficult.

        Just as I'm almost out of the parking lot, a couple cop cars pull into the lot. Three of them climb out of the car in their black suits Kevlar, guns pulled out and step into the now open doors of the bank. They must have already been in the area. New York traffic is a bitch and it takes five to ten minutes for cops to arrive at the scene. As for the final cop, he seems alert. Searching for something.

        Turning away from the scene, I begin back the way I came. The smell of smoke alerts me. Glancing down, I see wisps of white smoke curling off the edge of my locket. They batteries are dead and it probably fried the wiring. My pendents only a first model after all. I don't have the funds to update it.

        The cops back was to me, now that I was visible, the real threat of danger washes over me. The way my knees shake and my throat feels dry and scratchy. How my lungs and chest hurt. Quickening my pace, I keep my head down. A feeling of dread washes over me.

        A firm grip around my forearm is all the answer I need. I yank myself free of his grip, and spin to face the officer in question. He's a rather young man, in his late twenties, or early thirties, with short brown hair and gray eyes. His mouth is a firm line.

        "What are you doing here Miss?"

        "Excuse me?" I ask, giving some attitude. "It's not illegal to walk outside y'know."

        "No, it's not," he give me a look. "But it is on private property. So tell me, what are you doing here? You can't be older than sixteen."

        "You're right, I'm fifteen."

        "I'm tired of your game, did you break into the New York City Mint?"

        "Me?" I mock gasp. Being a thief makes me one hell of an actress. "I'm much to young for that. How would I even manage that, being such a stupid little girl and all. There's no way I could accomplish such a feat."

        "How did you do it?" he not fooled.

        "Do what? There's a lot of things that I've done," I snort, defiant. I've never been one to follow orders.

        "You're under arrest, place your hands behind your back."

        "Go right ahead, I don't have anything better to do," I reply. It'll be more pleasant in a juvy cell than sleeping in my alley another night. Once cuffed, the officer escorts me back across the parking lot and opens the door for me. He even helps me in. It takes over an hour for the other police officers return and by then I'm dozing off. I'll escape custody tomorrow when I'm not so tired.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There we go, a complete rewrite of the first chapter of "A Girl Named Panic"
> 
> Okay so the entire story is the same as it was originally, but this is the revamped version with the flow being better and the dialogue and writing sounding better than when I originally wrote it. The original version won't be altered and will remain where it is and how it is. This is for my own enjoyment to see how much better I can write this series now. I hope you all enjoy it and any new readers to the series, welcome, if you want to see what will happen, go to the original story of the same titled as it's complete. If you'd rather stay and read the updated version instead, that's just fine, but it'll take time to reach the end! Thanks!


	2. Interrogations

The overwhelming scent of bleach and anti-bacterial cleansers is nauseating. My head aches from it, my eyes are watery, and my throat's burning with a deadly vengeance. Do they just spray the smell into the air vents or something? Oh, and to top it all off with icing, I'm freezing my ass off as the metal chair I'm handcuffed to isn't a conductor of warmth.

        It's nearly silent in the eight by ten room I'm confined to. All white and blinding, but loud with the sound of the air conditioner blowing out its chilly breath. There's a metal table in front of me and so I kick my legs up over the tabletop and recline as comfortably as I can in the metal chair.

        Yawning, I close my eyes and try to catch a few more hours of sleep when the sound of a door opening forces me to stay conscious. I'm amused by the sight of the two cops that stumble in. The man from before and a woman with honey blonde hair. I smirk as near. The male officer steps in front of me, the table separating us. Neither of them seem amused.

        "Alright ma'am, you  _are_  going to tell us what you were doing lurking around the bank in the middle of the night, and whether or not you had anything to do with the reported break-in. You can do this the easy way or the hard way."

        "Ooh, so intimidating. The edgiest thing you've said yet Albert," I reply, rolling my eyes. "And I was not  _lurking._ "

        I can feel him tense at the name. "What?" he asks, nearly stuttering over his words. He's caught off guard. He didn't expect a fifteen year old girl to know his name, unfortunately for him, I know much more than that.

        Being a thief means that I've always prepared myself for the inevitability of encountering a situation as such. Therefore, I decided to learn everything I could about the current officers in New York City through the state. Memorizing everything in the databases.

        Playing innocent. "That's your name right? Albert Johnson. You've struggled with your weight since childhood, and got on weight watchers and lost it all in '08. Three months later you were married to your childhood friend and longtime crush, a Ms. Jessica Noel. A woman who in turn birthed you a couple kids, a boy and a girl. Must be scary to be away from them so much. Shame if something were to happen to them."

        Officer Johnson was red with fury. "You leave my family alone!"

        "Albert," I cut him off. "I never said a word about harming them. All I'm saying is that shit's nut out there. What with the Avengers and aliens and gods."

        He seemed to compose himself as the female officer, Vivian Adams stared at me with puzzlement. I perplexed her, she couldn't pin me down in a single category and that irritates her. The way her jaw is clenched and her eyebrows twitch.

        "You know Officer Johnson's name, I think it only fair for you to tell us yours," Vivian says, her voice as cool as steal and completely monotone.

        "Fair's fair Vivian." An overly dramatic sigh. "Panic."

        "What?" Officer Johnson asks, confused. Most people have the reaction.

        "My name," I say slowly, like they're both idiots and can't understand the language. "is Panic. Is that enough clarification or do you need me to write that down in big bubble letters?"

        "Where are your parents?" Vivian asks slowly, like she's testing my reaction.

        I shrug. "Dunno, why don't you tell me."

        A dry humorless laugh escapes me. The officers are confounded, I can tell by the way they look at me with a pitying sort of look. The firm line of their mouth, they're confused by my personality. They don't know me and don't care if they ever do, they just want to know who to blame me on. Even if I wanted to tell them, which I  _don't_ , they'd never believe me.

        Who'd believe that Tony Stark's daughter would be dirt poor? Or stole and was arrested? No one.  
        If I was a claimed child by my father, I wouldn't live in an alley, break into banks, be intelligent. No if I grew up in that sort of spotlight, I'd be a boy crazy skank who'd sleep around with any guy who flirted with me. That me would be a rich bitch with sickeningly extravagant clothing and a face caked in make-up. That Panic would be ditsy and have no clue how to fix a computer or hack a software program.

        I'd hate her.

        The officers, seemingly realizing that they aren't going to get any more out of me, decide to leave me alone. Hopelessly thinking that would make me talk later on. The moment the door closes, I get to work. In the pocket of my jeans is a bobby-pin. Slipping two fingers into the pocket, I manage to grab hold of the pin and shimmy it inside the lock.

        A click of the lock is followed by the clattering sound of my handcuffs.

        Standing up, I scan the room. The walls are made of a sort of metal and concrete blend. They type of material that you'd need a super soldier the break. Being the case of having a shortage of those, a section of the metal wall is peeled back to expose some of the wiring.

        I kneel down beside the opening and peel the metal back further. Mixing and matching the wiring, I pull and cut and reworking the wiring. It dawns on me that the yellow wire, between the green and blue, is the cord that is connected to the central power grid. Yanking that would knock out power in three counties and maybe half of New York.

        That cord is pulled and the room goes dark.

        The only building with power left is probably Stark Towers and that's only because Tony's got a backup generation that powers the place. If he didn't, it'd be just as dark there as it is in here. The door to my interrogation room is thrown open.

        "What the hell did you do!" It was Albert.

        "I wasn't suppose to cut the yellow wire? My bad," I give a nervous chuckle and try to look as sheepish as possible.

        "You didn't."

        Officer Johnson hauls me to my feet and escorts me through the hall of the Police Department.

        "Actually, I did." Yanking myself free, I slide my leg out and trip him. Bet he didn't expect that. "And in exactly one minute this building with be on lock down, it'll trap everyone inside until the powers restored."

        Still I'm nearly skipping towards the door when Albert looks up at me with anger in his eyes. "I feel terrible for whoever had the unfortunate curse of conceiving you."

        There was a pang through my heart.

        Even if I knew it was true, it still hurt like hell to hear.

        "Me too," is what I say, and with that I turn and run out into the night. The doors lock behind me. Even as the Police Department disappears behind me, I keep running. Ignoring the pain in my chest, the aching of my legs, and the burning tears in my eyes. When I finally slow to a walk, I take a glance to see where I wound up,

        The sight of Stark Towers is what I find. The building lit up in a world of total darkness. Not even phased by the rest of New York with it's power knocked out, a blinding beacon of hope, fear, and innovation. For me it's a reminder, a mockery, a curse. The truth, I will never fully be able to escape my lineage, my blood relation to my father, even if I'm a million miles away.

        No matter where I go, he'll always be on TV, in the news, in the spotlight.

        As for me, I'll always be this. Nobody. A child whose suffered and lost so much and can never seem to crawl her way up from nothing. The only other living Stark, only in relativity, by blood whose own father wouldn't recognize her out of a line up.

        It's times like these that make me want to march up there with my birth certificate, stand in front of the smug-mouthed Stark with a hand on my hip and present the evidence as proof of our relation, but then I remember the negatives. Not to mention that I don't even have a copy of my own birth certificate. Tony didn't want me back then and he sure as hell doesn't now, not with his new girlfriend in the picture.

        Not when his life is finally settling into something wonderful. He's just fine without me and he doesn't need me and I sure don't need him. I'll be just fine, like I've always been. Tearing my eyes from the building above me, I just start the trek away when something littering the ground catches my eyes. It's a sheet of paper to advertise some kind of event.

        Reaching down, I clutch the paper and my heart freezes in my chest. It's a promo for the Stark Expo. The annual festival for inventors to attend, Tony reopened it a while back. I've gone to every single one that's been held since the reopening.

        It'll not be any different this time.

        Releasing the paper, I let the wind carry it away and start searching for a new place to lie low for the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There it is, the second chapter of the rewritten version of "A Girl Named Panic" as you all can see—if you've read the original version—that this is the same story, I'm simply reworking a few scenes. In the original version of this chapter, I completely forgot to mention Panic's attendance of the Stark Expo and so I crammed it into the ending. That's why the mention of The Stark Expo was so out of nowhere and didn't really fit in the original version. This time I added it into the flow of the story and it transitions to it much better. This is pretty fun though, being able to elaborate on what wasn't right with the original, plus I'm having fun rewriting this story. Anyways, I hope you all enjoy!


	3. The Stark Expo

 The Stark Expo is buzzing with people, the flashing strobe lights are blinding, and I can''t hear my own thoughts over the roar of a hundred thousand voices chattering at once. There's a crowd of people—fan girls—who swarm to the edge of the stage like they actually expect Tony Stark to appear. As if, that guy doesn't care about anyone except himself.

        He's Iron Man out of guilty conscience. He saved those people in Gulmira because he was directly responsible. Half the time his own teammates can't stand being in the same room as him.

        I'm one of those people. Being in the same room as that man is my worst nightmare. Yet here I am, in the one place that is the most probable places to accidentally encounter him. Not that he would be here. I've come to nearly all of them since the reopening. That first one I refused to attend. Tony Stark was there and so I couldn't be as the universe would implode on itself.

        Me and Stark in the same room is a disaster waiting to happen.

        Even after the last four conventions, I still haven't be able to determine why I have the urge to attend. It could be the thrill that a room full of prototype tech give me, or it could be that I want this sort of closeness to my biological link, even if I don't want to see him in person. And while I fight tooth and nail against any claim that he's a good person, I can't and won't deny that he's a damn good inventor and engineer.

        Though the admittance makes me want to punch my fist through a wall at the very thought. Just like I hate the constant reminder that my talent with machinery all stems from my father's end of the gene pool.

        Groups are mingling, music is playing, and the drinks are swishing. As I glide down the walkways, I examine the rows of machines that line the expo floor. All prototypes to be perfected. Scanning them, I already can tell that most are useless. Missing a vital part, engines not powerful enough to support the rotation, and the fan is broken so it'll be prone to overheating that will melt the plastic.

        All of these simple fixes, but their creators can't see them. Don't have the money to, or just don't care.

        There's even an odd, bowl-shaped device which seems to have an oil cone at the top. It supposed to be able to convert salt water to fresh water. Though it's little more than scrap metal and bolts. Pathetic.

        Running my hand across the sleek blue table cloth, I free at the loud shrieking female voices. The sounds drilling into my ear carnal, a truly unpleasant sound. The crowd by the stage are jumping like a concerts in session. Understanding eludes me, at least until I hear the oddly specific clanking of metal feet. My heart catches in my throat as I stare dumbstruck at the stage.

        The Iron Man armor retracts, pealing itself from the man's slim form.

 _Tony Stark._  There he is in all his glory. Dressed in a pin-striped suit with slacks to match and a red tied.

        He looks like an asshole, and I feel like a complete idiot. A bubbling anger consumes me, I bite the inside of my cheek in a futile attempt to keep my temper quenched until he's finished.

        Tony looks out among the audience as if a god among men. An elite above the filthy commoners. God, I _hate_  him. Why my mother would ever want to be with a guy like that is beyond me. Suddenly a microphone is tossed at him, but Tony doesn't even blink. Immediately moving to catch it. A grin flashes on his face while I'm nearly growling.

        "I love you!" a female voice sounded from the crowd.

        He seemed to completely ignore that though, instead shifting to look around the floor.

        "Wow, can you believe it? That's five years have passed since I reopened the Stark Expo. Time does travel fast, I always thought that everyone said that when they regretted everything they did with their lives, but I stand corrected. Seeing as I knew the fifth year was coming, I thought a surprise appearance was acceptable. A great way to commemorate the event. Add a... special flare. Hopefully this one won't be disrupted by machines that don't make attempts on my life. A guy can only handle that nine times a week after all."

        The audience laughed.

        "So, welcome back to another Stark Expo and lets have another five years of greatness!"

        Nearly choking on the sip of punch I took, I leave the cup on the table and watch in annoyance at the activities commence. Inventors displaying their machines to cooperation's. My eyes stay on one person. My father. I watch as he glides through the people like a snake. Slithering and slimy and nothing but oozing of deceit.

        He seems so comfortable in this atmosphere. The skills acquired in a lifetime of wealth and prestige, the result of a life in the spotlight.

        Tony is the life of the room, everyone swarming around like he's something special. Boiling hot anger rushes through my veins like a drug and I want nothing more than to chuck my shoe at the back of his head. Smug son of a bitch. Thinks he's so great.

        Then I notice it. Pepper, his girlfriend, has shown up. They stand in the center of the expo, under the extremely intricate and clearly expensive chandelier, but what catches my eye in the iPhone laying casually at the refreshment table. I can tell that it's Tony's. The customized designed is all the confirmation needed.

        Odd. A genius doesn't just forget his custom designed phone by a punch bowl.

        Swooping in like a vulture, I make slow work of gathering another glass of cherry-limeade punch, and swipe a sugar cookie from the plate. Snatching the phone, I nearly jump when it buzzes and a text message appears on the screen.

        Shouldn't there be some sort of security protocol on this thing? But, I focus in on the text itself.

_To: Tony Stark_

_From: Unknown_

_I know that follow orders isn't your specialty Stark, but have you examined those files yet. We need a location on this target. She managed to knock out the power in the entire state. Given her skills, I have a good feeling that your expo is right up her alley. You need to find out if she's there._

_\- N.F out_

        Nick Fury? As in the Director Nick Fury who was behind the Avengers Initiative. Those are his initials, plus it makes sense. Given Tony's affiliation with Nick's boy band. Why Fury would want me though is strange. All I did was break out a Juvenile Hall and blow a few power grids.

        That's not the qualifications needed for some Avenger-ing?

        Which makes no sense to begin with. Not to mention that so many damn people don't have a clue who they are, it's not exactly like they were discreet. Running down the streets of New York City in bright ass spandex like that's a thing out here. Iron suits, green monsters, and an blond alien with a fucking hammer like he's He-Man, fighting some dumb dude with a stupid reindeer helmet.

        Then again, most people might just be suppressing the truth. They were like: _"hell no, let's just pretend that this never happened."_

        Not that I can blame them. In fact, I was here in New York when it happened. I'd just turned fifteen by then. I remember the carnage, the destruction. The way the the siding of building were ripped free by the Hulk's massive fists. Watching as a heap of siding crushed people beneath the debrief. I recall the burning scent of ozone, the coughing of debrief and deadly dust in my lungs.

        Watery eyes and horrid cries of agony. Yes, I remember the Battle of New York. I also remember watched in unbridled terror as Tony flew inside that looming blue worm hole and threw that nuke inside. Then the mind-numbing, trembling sort of shock when I thought he wasn't going to make it back out.

        I knew why it happened. Though I never admitted it to myself. It scared me, how invested I was in this person who I never knew. He's never been an important figure in my life, but at that moment, I felt like the world was ending. Sadness and grief overwhelmed me.

        Then he'd fallen back down to earth.

        Blacking the iPhone screen, I turn to see the back of Tony Stark's suit. Pepper Potts, the picture of elegance, wore a beautiful silvery blue dress that hugged her curves yet was modest and not to revealing. Her strawberry blonde hair was pinned up in a bun, and she was the picture of perfection.

        My heart thumps wildly in my chest and I feel lightheaded. Am I really going to do this?

        I glance down at the cell phone in my hand.

        I am. Taking a deep breath, I summon my nerve and move forward before I loose my confidence. The closer I get to Tony Stark and his girlfriend, the more I feel the urge to scratch my itching skin. My ears burn and my fingers tremble.

        One of the engineers is saying something about electromagnets while Pepper Potts, though seemingly appearing to have an interest, is bored out of her mind. Her eyes are dull and glassy.

        "Excuse me," I cut in, my tone sickeningly sweet. "I am terrible sorry to interrupt this riveting discussion on electromagnetic radiation. However, you seem to have misplaced something Mr. Stark."

        I hold out his iPhone.

        He seems slightly surprised, but quickly covers it behind a quip. "Hmm, so it seems. And call me Tony. Mr. Stark is my father. Though I thought I was missing something. I'm surprised you didn't keep this and sell it online. You could make quite a profit that way."

        "Ah yes, the place where stupidity and recorded for all of eternity. No thanks, I'd rather not be associated with such activities, besides, I'm much too pretty for thievery Tony. I figured, being the good Samaritan that I am, that someone was likely to steal this and thus decided to return it to you personally."

        Tony seems to contemplate me, like he's sizing me up. "How old are ya kid?"

        "Excuse me?"

        "The way you speak, you can't be older than sixteen."

        "I'm fifteen."

        "Where are your parents, shouldn't you have supervision?"

        "No. My mother allows me to come alone, she's not into all this  _technological_  stuff," I say offhandedly, handing the phone to Pepper when she leans for it.  _Yeah, not to mention that she's dead and gone and my daddy's right in front of me._

        A tickle in my throat forces a cough.

        "Something wrong?" he asks, not seeming to really care if I'm alright. More pleasantries.

        "No, absolutely not. I'm just surprised by how late it is. My mother will have my head if I'm not home in half and hour. Sorry again for the interruption, but I must be going," I wave. With than I turn and flee the scene. Keeping myself calm and composed.

        The chilly New York air hits me like the sun's ray. The cold feeling alleviating the stress and vibration of my nerve, which are now shot. That was more troubling than I'd originally thought it would be. A lead weight is crushing my heart. That's the first time I've ever seen my father is person, funny. And he doesn't even know who the hell I am.

        Just as I cross the street, someone forcibly grips my forearm and yanks me around.

        My initial reaction is to throw a punch at my attacker. My fist connects, I hear the hiss of pain and the sting up my arm from the impact. The person dressed from head to toe in black covers my mouth and nose with a white wash cloth and everything seems to spin. My body feels like it's made of concrete and my legs trembles beneath my weighed form.

        Then my legs give out beneath me, I can feel the masked figure catch my limp form. Then my mind gives into the soothing darkness that's lulling me to give in. Consciousness disappears and there's nothing but silence.      

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here it is, chapter three, totally rewritten. This chapter definitely needed a a nice long editing. It's fun to see how much the story can flow better when it's been changed from its original form to a nicer, updated version. So yeah, that's all. Chapter four will be coming soon! Thanks for reading.


	4. Being Held Captive

      Pissed. That's the first thing I felt when regained consciousness. Now it's the throbbing, pounding headache ripping through my skull like worms beneath the skin. The room is nearly pitch black, there's one light. A small lantern hanging on the hook on the other side of the small metal room. Even so, I couldn't make out any objects, it was mostly just black blob shapes with no defining characteristics.

        The sound of heavy footsteps forces me to move my rebellious limbs. They feel like spaghetti noodles that have been thrown in a blender. Wobbly and complete undependable. Just at the door opens florescent lighting flickers on, blinding me.

        A big, heavily built man with a curly, gross mountain men beard. He was dressed in black pants and a dark shirt to match. His eyes were a slated as shutters and dark as coals. His skin looked green under the lighting. He hauls me up by my forearm and ruffly shuffles me from the room and out into a narrow hall. It's unsettling, not a sound to be heard.

        The floors out here are stone, meaning that this is a cave or a hidden tunnel. My holding room must be metal as a precautionary measure. Our footsteps against the compacted earth is the only sound. The man leads me through the maze of conjoining paths.

        There's a door at the end of the hallway, and that's exactly where my captor is leader me. He seems to have to knock some type of secret pass code. Only when he hears two knocks back to back from the other side does he push the door open. Moss and damp earth fills the air. This room is entirely compacted dirt, it's wide and open like a rectangle.

        When I finally notice the wooden desk sitting in the rooms center, I snort. How stupid. What's the point of having a desk down here, doesn't this guy know that the humidity and moisture in the air will warp the wood?

        A man with sandy blond hair stands behind the desk, his back facing me. This man isn't nearly as imposing as the behemoth behind me, but his calm and collected posture sends an uneasy feeling through me. Blondie turns, revealing a jagged white scar slashing across his left eye. Ice blue eyes, cold and cunning, examining me, picking away at my very being.

        I shiver, uncomfortable.

        "The resemblance is uncanny," he mumbles to himself.

        "What resemblance, you son of a bitch?" I growl, feeling my lips curl in fury. I  _don't_  appreciate being kidnapped, I'm not some helpless damsel in need of saving.

        Blondie lets out a hardy laugh. The kind that comes from the gut. "To your father of course."

        I go rigid.

        "That's right, no one's supposed to know that are they? You even have his foul mouth. Though, I suppose it's not that surprising. The man does make up half of your DNA."

        On the outside I try to keep a angry, neutral expression; on the inside however, I'm freaking out. How can he know? There shouldn't be any available records of my birth certificate, I made sure of that a long time ago. Yet here is this stranger who some how knows. This can't be happening.

        "Oh, and where did you hear that from?" I retort, smirking. "Don't you think I'd know if someone as rich as Tony Stark was my father. Not to mention the stake of money I would get if he was. So if he was my father, why would I be here and not with him?"

        He smiles, a dangerous undertone to it. "You hate him, that's why. You don't need charity and you wouldn't allow yourself to get hurt if  _'Daddy'_  doesn't want you, so you stay away. You can't be hurt if he never finds out. As for how I knew, your mother told my older brother about her pregnancy with you, she even sent him a copy of your birth certificate. He was supposed to gain custody of you if she were to die. That didn't work out though."

        "You know, I'd be inclined to give a shit, but I honestly don't care. I don't know anything about you and your brother, therefore, pointless."

        "Patience is virtue Panic. Alas, my name is Jedidiah Stane," he says finally. My eyes jump out at the name. "My older brother was Obadiah Stane."

        "You mean that old bald guy who had that terrorist group the Ten Rings abduct Tony Stark?" I scratch my head. "What with your family and forcibly taking other people?"

        "Cute, but do you know what happened to him?" Jedidiah asks, his voice sweet like sugar.

        "He died."

        "Was murdered!" Jedidiah shouts, slamming his fists against the top of his desk. "The rest of the world thinks my beloved big brother vanished on a plane ride for vacation, they don't know that your father killed him. I knew it was a cover up, so when I found out about you,  _Panic Stark,_ I knew I'd found it. My ace in the hole, who better to take down a Stark than another Stark?"

        If this asshole calls me Panic  _Stark_  one more time, I will kick the crap out of him. This big, boulder of a man won't be enough to stop me. I might share a genetic link to Tony Stark, but his last name certainly isn't mine.

        As for what happened to Obadiah, of course I knew. When I found out that S.H.I.E.L.D. was involved, I did a bit of digging in their system. The truth about how Obadiah had paid the Ten Rings to kill Tony Stark in Afghanistan and how they wanted him to building the Jericho Missile. I learned about Obadiah's desire to have total control over Stark Industries.

        The reason I did the digging was because, as much as I hate it, Tony  _is_  my father and he's the only living relative that I have. Even if I've avoiding meeting him and stayed away from him. He's still important to a degree and it's important for me to be informed about what's going on with him.

        "They covered it up," Jedidiah mused. "That organization. You'll be the force I need to take it down."

        "What exactly do you want me to do you lunatic?" I shout, wanting so badly to just lunge at him, but I know I wouldn't get far.

        He widens his eyes, laughing hysterically as if it were a joke. A hilarious one at that. "For you I have many plans. The first one is for you to make me a suit, like dear old dad has."

        I feel the color drain out of me, leaving me like a gray blob. An Iron Man suit, fully operational? How the hell can this guy expect me to build something of that degree, I don't even know what all would be needed. An arc reactor for sure, which I'd have to build from scratch. Not to mention that I've never studied arc reactor technology and then the armor plating would have to be welded by hand.

        I highly doubt this cave lair has a wielding shop after all. Not to mention that I'd have to guess what pieces are on the inside, all the wiring. Just thinking about it makes my head spin.

        As smart as I am, I'm  _not_  my father.

        He's much more intelligent than I, even if I hate admitting it. Not to mention that he graduated from MIT at seventeen. And at the top of his class. I haven't even graduated from high school yet.

        I meant to say something bad ass, instead it comes out like: "Wh-what?" my voice squeaky, choked and mangled sounding.

        "Build me an Iron Man suit and I'll allow you to goo free."

        Bullshit.

        "Are you insane!" I finally manage to gather my thoughts to form words. "How the hell am I supposed to do that? I've never even taken a close enough look at the armor to even begin to draw blueprints of it, much less calculate the propulsion force needed for flight or to ejects weapons with trajectory angling. It's near impossible without at least a prototype!"

        Jedidiah hold up a hand, as if to silence my protests. "I'm fully aware of the complications of such a task, but if anyone in the world could replicate Tony Stark's work, it would be his only daughter. You. I've already made preparations and have acquired the original blueprints for the Iron Man armor and pictures of the current models."

        There's a moment of silence. Then, "Do we have a deal?"

        I already know my answer. Even if I somehow managed to create a fully functioning Iron Man suit, Jedidiah could unleash chaos upon the world. All the people he could kill, the death on my head, it would be my fault. Build a suit and stay alive, or say no and face his wrath. Torture. The word terrified me, I've seen enough to know it won't be good.

        The guilt that will consume my soul isn't worth it though. I'd rather face death than be the cause of it, I already have was mark against my soul, I don't need any other night horrors to haunt my sleep. If my pendent wasn't broken, I could just escape. Now I severely regret not fixing it the night before the expo.

        After this I'll have more nightmares. One's of this time in my life, the horror I'm about to face. I won't break, I refused to. I'll have to be strong now and fight until my last breath.

        My answer comes out in a whisper.

        "No."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here it is, chapter four rewritten. This one was interesting to write, I think I originally had to go back and add something into this chapter for something in a later chapter of the original series. I'm also getting rid of the decision part on the first section of chapter five and instead go right into the torture. I'll probably be doing some research on torture and updating the methods used so chapter five may be a bit more graphic this time around. Anyways, hope you enjoyed this and I'll be back soon with rewritten chapter five!


	5. Crossroads

        The world spins and spins and spins. I'm lightheaded and not sure which was is up or down for that matter. Blackness rims around the edge of my vision, the focus blurred out. Everything feels numbs. Even the forceful grip locked iron-tight around my throat.

        I feel like I'm floating in an ocean. The waves rocking back and forth against the current. As peaceful as it seems, my lungs burn. They're on fire, and aching profusely with a vengeance. Black dots flicker across the blurred sight of an arm, I'm on the verge of passing out. Like the last time, the hand releases me at the last second and I cough raggedly.

        Gulping down air like it's limited. Which in my case, it is. There's an aching in my skull, a headache. The big man from before, his name's Sully I think, paces back and forth. Eyes on me.

        This has been ongoing for the last hour and a half. If this keeps up, I'll have brain damage, I think Sully knows that as well. He's currently on call with someone. Probably Jedidiah. If they cause major damage to my brain, then it'll be less likely for me to be capable of building that Iron Man armor. They need me much more than I need them.

        That's why I have the upper hand. I don't need them, but they need me.

        Sully hangs the phone up, and slowly makes his way over to where I'm strapped down. My wrists and ankles are bounds by straps, my skins rubbed raw from fighting against the restraints.

        He shifts so the shadow from his form blocks out the blindly bright light currently burning eyes. Everything is numb, my throat aches for some cool water, and my lungs are painfully aching. Sully is not amused, his face is stony and unflinching. The arch of his brow is a means of intimidation, a tactic that's pathetic against someone like me. It's laughable.

        "It seems that Jedidiah has a special punishment, it'll give you plenty of time to reconsider your position."

* * *

        Empty room. Dead silence. No contact.

        Solitary confinement. The worse sort of tactic for someone like me, a social creature by nature. It's been two days since I was tossed in here by Sully and I'm barely able to keep myself focused. The walls are barren and lifeless. White.

        Food is slipped in through a small slab opening on the floor. I've been waiting and watching for hours now. Trying to figure out a way to escape this place. There must be something I can do. If I don't get out, I may just go insane. It's the silence that's a killer. It's enough to drive a person mad, to be lost in the boring walls and into the depths of the mind.

        Being mentally weak isn't an issue of mine, but I know it's only a matter of time before I crack up. That's why I plan to strike. The food always arrives at approximately twelve in the evening and nearly five in the night.

        Nothing too fancy. Just a bowl of paste-looking slosh.

        Disgusting, if that lunatic thinks this'll change my stances, he's sorely mistaken. I don't take to kindly to orders, I'm not one to wilt under pressure. If anything, Jedidiah's about to understand why underestimating me is his worst mistake.

        Between the floor and the opening slot in the door is a gap, one wide enough to be nudged from the inside. All I need is to catch it before it closes, whoever brings that slush will be back for the bowl in the next twenty minutes or so. I've started counting down time, the man who brings the food is an idiot, he wears a watch that I'm capable of seeing from where I sit in the back of the room.

        I tap my fingers against the concrete floor, counting the seconds.

        It seems like forever before the heavy sound of footsteps near the cell, I move forward, nudging the bowl closer to the slot. Yanking my necklace off, I watch the hand reach in and grasp the bowl. There's a five second delay between the slot closing and the hand retreating. Five seconds for my chance of freedom. I push the pendent into the gears on the slot.

        The slot seeming closes, on the outside it would appear as such, however; my side is a different story. There's a small gap open between the slot and the floor below. Not daring to make any movement, the sound of retreating footsteps allows me to relax. Getting on my hands and knees, I pull the slot open—making sure to retrieve my pendent—and fiddle with the latch for the slot.

        At the click, I pull the metal sheet inward, setting it down beside me as I peer up at the door that keeps me trapped. A simple door, one with a standard lock or bedrooms, ha! Pathetic, as if this shitty excuse for a cell was supposed to hold me, Panic Wallace!

        Reaching further through the slot, I grab the door handle, unlock the door, and twist the knob.

        Freedom.

        Stepping out into the hallway, I'm surprised that there's no soul in sight. You'd expect a madman to have his secret lair filled to the brim with reckless, law-hating rebels with no fear of consequences running around at all hours of the day. Instead there's just an empty hallway in which to hold Jedidiah's only ace in the hole, who he's left completely unguarded.

        How I ever managed to be abducted by this ass-hat is beyond me, I feel so embarrassed.

        Shaking the though off, I start down the hallways. Keeping my breathing steady and controlled, making sure that my footsteps were light and nearly silent, and never letting my guard down. I'm in the lion's den, just because Jedidiah didn't have anyone near the door doesn't mean that there still won't be people in other places I may need to get passed.

        All along the walls were images of people, most of who were unrecognizable to me. There was one that struck a cord, I couldn't tell you why though. There was something familiar about it, I felt as though I should know who the woman in the image was.

        There were three people standing together, arms thrown over shoulders, smiles wider that the moon on their faces. On the left was an older man, clearly more than ten years older than the other the girl, next to him was a girl with short, cropped hair. She seemed around three, maybe a bit older. And on her right was another boy, near the same age as the other boy. He and the girl looked alike. Maybe siblings?

        The picture was in a sepia overlay, all the colors washed away.

        In the eyes of the girl, see seemed to be looking right  _through_  me. It's an unsettling feeling.

        The sound of voices tears me away from the strangely familiar girl in the image, taking a quick glance around, duck into an open doorway, pulling the door close to shut, just enough so I can peer out. Shadows on the wall reveal to figures walking side by side.

        While I don't recognize the two men when they round the corner, they both seem strangely normal. Not the big baddies that the film industry would display as the henchmen of the main antagonist. They seem like regular guys that you'd see in the street, or sipping a cup of coffee at a Starbucks in the city, not the sort to be in some hidden lair.

        Backing away from the door, I turn to see that the 'supposed' closet is actually another hallway. Though dimly lit with imitation torches mounted along both sides of the wall, radiating an eerie orange glow.

        The air is heavy and dusty, the floor is dirt—unlike the rest of the compound. Cracks and crevices litter the stone walls, the pressure of the air weighs on me like a sack of bricks. My head's pounding from the pressure and my stomach aches from lack of nutrition. I really need to get out of here, it's only a matter of time before Jedidiah notices my absence.

        I find myself in the middle of nowhere, open walkways in every direction. All of them fade into darkness the deeper the tunnels go in. The sounds of echoing voices draws my attention, taking a deep breath, I move towards the tunnel. As I near, the voices become more distinguishable.

        Goosebumps jump down my skin, I recognize the voice. It's Jedidiah.

        "—just like him!"

        "It could be worse, I suppose," it was a woman's voice. She sounded wicked and vile, like a serpent with a tongue of lies.

        "How a beautiful, intelligent woman like that could ever be foolish enough to sleep with that egotistic, narcissistic, selfish, scum of the earth. She had such potential before she met him, and instead, she, she decided to keep that  _thing_... "

        The hell does that mean? What is that asshole talking about?

        "What does it matter now?" the woman sounded bored. I peer around the doorway, the woman is hidden in the shadows, Jedidiah was pacing the floor in a rage. He seemed furious. "Nearly sixteen years have passed since then, not to mention she's dead."

        "Yes, she is, and the last few years of her life were miserable. The only thing left of her is that tainted bastard, ruined by the blood of her worthless father. A disgusting combination of someone who could have been great. The time has come, my vengeance will be realized."

        "Unfortunately, your  _vengeance_ doesn't line with the best interest of the organization. Therefore, I cannot allow such foolishness to reflect upon the hard work of our ancestors."

        Jedidiah slams his fists against a wooden desk nearby. "How can you deny this, he's just as much a threat to you. My revenge will be the perfect opportunity to take out one of your organizations most feared adversaries. Together we can kills two birds with one stone."

        "Perhaps, but it could also end in absolute failure, exposure like that for my organization isn't something that can be allowed, at least at the moment. You'll have to do this on your own, I wish you the best of luck. You're going to need it."

        The sound of retreating high heels signals the unknown woman's departure.

        "Damn it..." he whispers, barely audible.

        Just as I'm back away, an alarm sounds through the compound. The wailing siren like a drill through my eardrums, so loud that my brain is scrambled and logical thinking is muted out. Covering my sorely under protected ears with my hands in a futile attempt to dull the noise.

        "Sully! What's with the alarm?" Jedidiah screams, his voice managing to pierce through the siren.

        "The prisoner, she's escaped sir."

        A primary howl of utter fury tells me he's pissed. "Find her, now!"

        I sprint back to the catacomb of hallways and pick the farthest from the one leading to Jedidiah. Everything is hazy and fast-paced. The siren's still wailing and it feels like my ears are bleeding a river. Red lights flash wildly, it could give you a seizure if you stare at it to long. Not to mention that the hallway's a dead end.

        A ten foot tall steel door with quarter sized bolts in the door is keeping me imprisoned.

        Prying my hands away from my ears, I duck down by the control panel beside the door. I slip my nails beneath the plastic panel and tug it out until the plastic gives way and the wires are exposed. It doesn't even take me a minute to reboot the system, the moment between total reboot allows the door to open and shut before the system reactivation.

        However, what I wasn't expecting there to be anybody on the other side of the door.

        I was mistaken.

* * *

        By the time I awoke, I was in a new room. This time my arms were bound by heavy metal shackles.

        It was an awful outcome, I put up a pitiful fight. It makes me regret my decision to choose a robotics class over mixed martial arts when I was young. Then again, I never suspected that I'd be abducted by some manic with a man-crush on my father when I was fifteen.

        A few of Jedidiah's guys who were dressed from head to toe in black, ambushed me. I remember pain.

        My broken nose is evidence of how horribly I fared. My ribs cry out in agony from the brutal kicks taken, I'm sure at least a few are broken. My skin's already turning a deep purple. Dark splotches flake my vision, blocking whole sections in my vision. The aching in my bones feels like someone set fire to the blood in my veins and now it's burning me alive.

        At least I can't detect the coppery taste of blood in my mouth due to the broken nose. Plus I think one of my eyes is swelling up, it's probably ready to turn into an ugly black eye.

        The sound of footsteps immediately puts me on edge. Hauling my aching, weak form up to great whoever it is. I won't let them see me weak, no one will see me in such a pathetic state. There's nothing I can do about my physical appearance, but I can sure as hell keep my determination, to keep the fire in my eyes.

        When the metal door opens, it's not who I expected. Rather than Jedidiah or his right-hand man, it's a boy about my age. Maybe a few years older, give or take a couple.

        His face was that of surprise. "I'm surprised you're even able to stand."

        "Oh," I sneer. "And why's that?"

        The boy's taken back by my tone. "I'm not here to judge, I was told that you'd been injured in the altercation. They sent me to make sure you were healing well and to prevent infections."

        "What makes you think I'll let you anywhere near me. I do not need anyone's help, certainly not some backwater lowlife slime such as yourself. "

        He give me a humorless look. "Well you're not very nice."

        Scowling at him, I hiss. "You're damn right I'm not! Being kidnapped and held against my will has put me in a bad mood. Oh, I'm _so-o-o_  unreasonable!"

        "Okay, I'll admit it's not an ideal situation, but I have nothing to do with this. I'm forced to be here just as much as you are. I'm just trying to do my job, the last thing I need is for Jedidiah to find out that I failed to treat you. Plus you're obviously in pain."

        Just the mention of the word sends shock waves of agony through me, I fight back a wince and throw my head back and laugh and dry laugh.

        "Just because I'm a girl doesn't mean I can't take a few hits," I retort, glaring at the boy.

        "No, it doesn't. Given who you're father is—"

        I cut him off. "What? The fact that that son of bitch is my father doesn't mean I'm some prissy princess. I want nothing to do with him, his fortune, his perfect little girlfriend, or his stupid face."

        "That's right, I remember Jedidiah say something about Tony Stark being unaware of your existence. I'm sorry, that must be difficult," he rubs the back of his head, seemingly embarrassed.

        "Not really..." I mumble, suddenly feeling lightheaded. My legs buckle beneath me and I land on my backside.

        "Hey, are you alright?" the boy is suddenly in front of me with a grey metal box.

        "I don't feel so good..." Nausea rolls over in waves.

        The boy sticks a thermometer in my mouth, I resist the urge to punch him.

        "You're running a fever. It's probably because of how deep underground you are, not to mention lack of sun, plus a few of the guards around here have had the flu so they've spread their contagions."

        Fantastic.

        Cherry medicine is forced down my throat, along with some pills and bottles of water.

        "We need to try to get your temperature down first, if it gets to high, well it could be detrimental."

        He's just about to brush his hand against my forehead when I catch his wrist. "Before you do another thing, tell me something. Your name. I need to know your name before I allow you to do anything else."

        He retracts his arm. "My name's Zeke."

* * *

        A few days have passed since Zeke treated me of my fever. He hasn't appeared since.

        When the door opens, I'm hoping for Zeke's friendly face. Instead, it's Jedidiah Stane who makes his appearance.

        There's a smug, almost bemused grin on his face as his eyes scan over my damaged features. The way his lip curls, his white teeth glinting under the lighting, the dark look in his cold eyes. "Ready to cooperate?"

        "Fine," I say, defeated. "But, what do you know about my mother?"

        I look up at him.

        He's stunned, it takes a moment for him to regain his composure. "Your mother, Vanessa Wallace. Ha! When you learn the connection your mother has to Obadiah, then you understand her connection to me. How I never understood how she could—why she would ever get pregnant with that scumbags bastard child. You."

        He doesn't say another word, opting to turn and leave.

        The words sting like someone jammed a knife into my chest, but I push the feelings down and bury them with the rest of the words that haunt me at night. Now's not the time to deal with those issues, now is the time for survival. And I  _never_  give up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here it is, sorry I took so long. There's a lot of changes in this chapter from the original and it took some time to rework the story, not to mention I'm adding hints for the future series' that weren't around when this was made. Not to mention I'm still have personal issues that make writing a lot harder. Anyways, hope you all enjoy. I'll be back as soon as I can!


	6. Escape Plan

        Screenshots of Tony's current Iron Man armor were dropped through the slot in the door this morning. Jedidiah gave me a a huge spiral note book and a blue pen, he asked me to write down all the needed parts. There was a stack of over a hundred screenshots of the Iron Man armor from every conceivable angle. I had to flip through the stack at least ten times to correctly identify the needed parts.

        Most of the images were from the Battle of New York, when the madman Loki—a 'god' straight out of Norse Mythology—threw a jealous shit-fit and decided to reclaim his 'throne' by conquering the planet. Crazy bastard. So many of the shots are of Tony in the suit, weaving through the skyscrapers, facing off against a metal monster, and his fall from space.

        There are a few images that aren't from that incident. Like the ones of Tony facing off against Ivan Vanko on the Circuit de Monaco track. The Duel of Monaco as dubbed by the news broadcast was a brutal sight to see, especially when sitting in a crowded coffee shop in the afternoon.

        It was nearly a year ago, and I'd just barely turned fourteen in the prior month.

        Seeing something like that on the news, rather than from the person your genetically linked with, is unsettling to say the least. The footage of those whips cutting through the cars like a knife through butter. Fear, there was so much fear on the spectators faces. I thought Tony was going to die that day.

        After those were images of the Iron Man armor and the War Machine armor—Iron Patriot as the military has re titled it—facing off against Vanko's horde of metal drones. The images are astounding in their quality, if I didn't know better, I'd believe that there was someone hiding in the bushes to take the photographs from the battlefield.

        By the time I've finished accounting for all the parts needed, based only on my examination of the external parts of the suit and the tiny bit I know about the arc reactor technology Tony's been working on, it's nearly a ten page long list.

        Jedidiah returns a few hours after giving me the images and paper. He said he had something to attend to, now that he's returned, I hand over the pen and the list of required parts.

        His cold blue eyes scan over the list, the smirk on his face shows his amusement. "Have you found everything you're going to need? Or is this just the first half?"

        I shoot a glare in his direction. "That should be most of them. However, I won't deny that I could've missed a few things. Since I'm working off still pictures, it's near impossible to be completely accurate. If I discover anything else that's needed, I'll be sure to contact you."

        "I'm flattered. Now if you'll excuse me I have to get my men to collect these pieces. Try to stay out of trouble child."

        He leaves without another word.

        The moment the door closes, I reach into my pocket for my cell phone. Apparently no one bothered to confiscate it from me, though the fact that it's not picking up a signal could be the answer to that. Maybe this place is so far away from civilization that my phone can't connect to any service networks. Damn it. If my necklace wasn't fried, escaping would be a peace of cake.

        Having no money, or job to pay for more dependable tools and wiring makes it difficult to have reliable creations. One day I'm gonna have money and then I'll be able to create all the devices I've blueprinted in my head.

        First I need to get out of here before any of that.

        Looking down at my phone, an idea clicks. If Jedidiah wants an Iron Man suit, I'll give him the best damn suit I can. With a few...  _customized_  features of course. I smirk. Hopefully he likes infernos because that's what he's going to get.

        Using the guts of the phone I bend and twist the wiring to make it seem like an innocent bracelet. My phone, despite being ancient by modern teen standards, is powered by a micro-battery that I specially designed. It took the mutilation of an old computer and stealing the motherboard to do so. The battery is highly dangerous and can explode if the conditions are right.

        Or if it's order via command code, courtesy of me.

        Jedidiah will never know what hit him, I smirk maniacally at the thought.

* * *

        When I hear the metal door creak, I expect to see Jedidiah informing me that he's acquired the parts I need.

        The sight of dark brown hair, a green zipped jacket, and ribbed blue jeans reveals to be Zeke. The boy who came to help me recover from my injuries a week or so ago, guessing of course.

        Zeke looked worse for wear, his face coated in soot and dirt. His arms were littered in nicks and cuts. Most of which were wrapped tightly with gauze or covered with band-aids. His icy blue eyes were weary and he had dark purple bags beneath them.

        "Hey Panic, how's it going? Are you feeling better?" Zeke asks, his voice light despite how awful he looks.

        My nose is still broken and aching, my ribs are tender and sore; however, the bruises on my skin are starting to fade, my fever's gone, and the cuts aren't infected so I suppose it could be worse. Then again, I'm still trapped against my will.

        "Better than you, yes. What'd you do, have an opinion?" I quirk an eyebrow at him. Curious as to what left his in such a state.

        He snorts back a chuckle. "No. I'm been busy in the lab, Jedidiah wanted me to start implementing some of his blueprints from paper to reality. Let's just say that it didn't end so well. You'd be the better choice for all that engineering stuff."

        "Maybe, but I'm not to excited to held that lunatic with anything. What I want is to go home."

        "Excuse me if I'm out of line, but I overheard Jedidiah talking to someone. He—he mentioned that your, that Tony Stark doesn't know about you and that since you don't live with him and you mother's, well, deceased,"—I flinch at the use of the word—"he said that you don't have a home." Zeke's voice gets higher at the end, almost as if it were a question rather than fact.

        "That's true, he doesn't know about me and I definitely want to keep it that way. However, that doesn't mean I'm unable of taking care of myself. I've been on my own for years and yet, here I am, still alive and perfectly healthy."

        "I believe it. What does Jedidiah want from you anyway? I've asked a hundred times and he always evades the question."

        "Y'know that Iron Man armor that Tony made in that cave in Afghanistan?"

        "Yeah? Wait a minute, you mean?"

        "That Jedidiah wants me to build a working replica of the armor without having seen the actual suit up close? Yeah, not to mention that the only way to see the suit was from screenshots. The suit is powered by arc reactor technology and I don't know anything about it. That's never been a focus point for me."

        "Are you really going through with it? Making Jedidiah an Iron Man suit I mean?"

        I sigh. While I like Zeke, he is working with the enemies and I can't trust him to keep my plan a secret and so I decided to display myself in a seemingly defeated role. "What choice do I have? There's nothing I can do."

        "That's unfortunate, I was looking forward to seeing your spunk."

        Glancing over at him, I really look. He's only a handful of years older than me and yet he seems like he's seen far more than he lets on.

        "What about you Zeke?"

        The person in question looks at me in surprise.

        "You know how I ended up in here, but I never heard your story. Why are you working under someone like Jedidiah?"

        Zeke runs a hand through his messy hair. "Jedidiah found me, I was in a bad place. My father just vanished and I was completely alone with no where to go. When I first met the man, I was terrified. However, he proved that he isn't all bad, that there is some good in him. It's just been... tainted by life."

        "Haven't we all...?" I ask, noting how that resonates with me.

        Zeke doesn't say anything else and neither do I as there's nothing left to say.

* * *

        It takes longer than expected for Jedidiah's team to collect all the parts, but they do manage to procure them. Among the pile of parts I'm surprised to find safety gloves, masks, and goggles. When I asked, all Jedidiah said was that he couldn't afford for me to injure myself.

        He give me a seven day deadline to show significant progress otherwise there would be consequences. I only nodded and started drawing the blueprints on the papers given to me. I incorporate all the potential reworkings, based on my inability to see what's under the metal plating of the suit. That means that the pieces beneath could be anything and I might have to swap out parts.

        The first three days of my week is spent planning out the best way to create the armor. The last four is when I began to build the suit from the ground up, attaching and working the wiring, fiddling around with arc reactor technology, and welding the metal plates on the body of the suit.

        My fingers were sore and aching, and while I've always wanted to weld, I never had the money to afford to. And having to do so much of it while using one for the first time in my life is making it difficult. Not to mention how hot the room gets whenever it's in use, the heat from the machine turns my holding cell into a steam room, sweat gets into my eyes and my limbs begin to shake.

        I'm just finishing with the welding on the right leg when the metal door opens.

        It another one of Jedidiah's henchmen. Unlike Sully, who's relatively more comfortable to be around, this guy sends shock waves of unease through me. It could be his snake like features, extended nose, and slit-like eyes. Maybe it's the way his blond hair is slicked back by hair gel in some sleazy scumbag way.

        "C'mon Doll, Jed wants to see ya," his words sound like sighed breath.

        Reluctantly, I move for the door, making sure to slip a wrench into the sleeve of my jacket. Just in case.

        "It's sad y'know, to see such a pretty gal like you in this dungeon. If I knew there was someone as fine as you down here, I'd pay you more visits," he says, seemingly trying to flirt with me. I shudder in disgust, feeling his nearness.

        "What do you say Doll? Do you even understand a word I'm sayin' girl?" His warm breath on my neck, his arms too close for my liking.

        I scowl, stepping to the side to put distance between us. "I'd rather stab myself in the eye with a needle... or you."

        The man chuckles, amused. "Well that's not very nice say to folks."

        Picking up my pace, I'm nearly around the corner when the man grabs my wrist and yanks me towards him. He backs me up against the wall, putting himself between me. There's a sort of twinkle of amusement in his eyes.

        "Say, how old are ya girlie? Can't be that old, you seem like a young-in. Never been touched probably."

        Terror erupts in every nerve in my body. I feel like screaming, or crying, or both.

        One of his hands moves up over the curve of my hips, over my sides, and moving higher still. I jerk wildly when his hand reaches my breast and squeezes. I feel disgusted, and pissed.

        "We gonna have lots of fun tonight Doll. Got a nice set for such a little thing," he squeezes my chest again.

        My face is burning with anger and humiliation. Jerking again, I yank my knee up and hit him where it hurts. He stumbles back, groaning and I pull a fist back and pop him right in the mouth. There's not way in hell that I'll let any guy get away will feeling me up like that!

        "You little bitch!" he seems to recover and just as he's starting towards me, the clearing of one's throat catches our attention.

        Relief floods through me at the sight of Jedidiah. Never thought I'd be pleased about seeing him, but I hadn't met this rapist before either so there a chance for everything I suppose.

        "Panic, come here."

        I don't hesitate to scramble over to where Jedidiah waits, he seems rather irritated. His arms hang loosely at his side, but the arch of his eyebrow and the coldness in his eyes show that he is not at ease.

        "Veni, you're dismissed. I do not wish to see you at the moment, and keep in mind, you're not to be anywhere near the girl. If I so much as fine your on the same side of the compound as her, I'll have you dealt will,  _permanently_ , is that understood?"

        "Y-yes Sir," he nods.

        "Then go."

        Veni, as he's just been revealed as, makes a low noise in the back of his throat before relenting to Jedidiah and scurrying off down the hallway.

        Jedidiah doesn't even spare him a passing glance and instead turns his attention onto me. "I see you've been hard at work on the suit." Jumping straight to the point I see.

        "Y-yeah," I stutter, trying to calm my pounding heart rate."It's not as easy as I hoped. I'm trying to rationally figure out how the suit works and not to mention having to learn arc reactor technology without any access to the original prototype. However, everything seems to be going as it should."

        Jedidiah nods. "Thankfully you've done enough that I won't have to punish you for insolence, I don't enjoy torturing children. Not my thing. Though I will if I have to, your cooperation makes this a much smoother working environment. Remember, just because you've done well so far, that doesn't mean I'll allow slacking on your part. Otherwise, I'll have to handle your disobedience."

        At the use of the word, I stiffen. Jedidiah, seemingly noticing my reactions shakes his head and sighs loudly.

        "After what just happened with Veni I shouldn't be surprised by this. Most of these men haven't been this close to a woman in a long time. That's why I had carefully selected my most trusted people to attend to you, Veni wasn't supposed to know you were here."

        "Why'd you do it?" I ask, not quite sure what I'm asking.

        "When you think of a man being tortured, what comes to mind? Waterboarding. Any other Hollywood cliche, and when you think about the same situation with a woman?"

        I didn't answer, I didn't have too. The answer sat like a lead weight in my stomach.

        "Exactly, women are much easier to break. The best way to do that is to do one of the main things you can do to a women and not a man, though I suppose in all actually one could. That kind of torture haunts women for years to come and even more to recover from. Some never do. To have someone force their will upon you, ugh. You've valuable because of your mind, your skill set, and if Veni were to do that, he'd break you and you'd be useless. I cannot have that. Understand now?"

        Reluctantly, I nodded. The sick feeling deep in my bones.

        "Good, now lets put this unpleasantness behind us, and besides it's time for you to get back to work. Sully will escort you. I'll make sure of that."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally, chapter six's rewrite is finished. I decided to add some more issues with being trapped in this situation with Panic. Originally when I was writing this story, I wasn't sure how readers would take such things. Like in the follow-up story with Panic and you-know-who (for those who read the original) in that alleyway, I was anxious about how readers would take that. So I decided that I can push that line now. Anyways, enjoy and I'll be back soon!


	7. Fighting Fire With Fire

       Zeke came by to visit me again, looking much better this time around.

        The scratches and marks from before have healed, his face is no longer covered in ten pounds of soot, and he's even gotten around to changing his wardrobe. His hair was combed and looking much less greasy.

        I was in the middle of wiring the torso of the armor, which had the metal plating melded together a day and a half prior, when Zeke decided to pop in. He seems to have a habit of just appearing out of thin air. There are times when he's seemingly vanished and then suddenly shows up again. It's odd to me, after what happened with that Veni guy, I've been more cautious around him.

        Though I don't think he'll try anything, after my experience with that asshole, I've decided not to risk it. I haven't been this on edge since, well, back when I lived at home. My life there was basically hell. Being held captive is a similar experience.

        "Whoa, you're already that far in the armor?" Zeke sounds totally blown away, but I don't dare look away from the exposed wires. One wrong move and I could detonate the little surprise I've been working on. If it goes off before Jedidiah gets a front row seat then this entire plan was pointless. Not to mention I'll fail at my ultimate goal that this will provide.

        "Yeah, I've been busy. Hardly sleeping these days really makes me progress faster."

        He tsks at that. "Panic, it's not healthy to neglect sleeping."

        I roll my eyes. "It's also not healthy to inhale the fumes that comes off the welder, or to be tortured, but that hasn't stopped me yet. The sooner I finish this damn suit, the sooner I can..."

        Trailing off, I curse myself in my head. I'm being too trusting, Zeke works with them, more or less. That means that he could reveal anything I say, maybe reporting back to Jedidiah. He can't be trusted.

* * *

        Nearly five days later I'm told that Jedidiah's expecting the completed suit, thankfully Zeke stopped by on his way to wherever he goes to tell me. That give me a forewarning to ensure the suit's ready for him to see. I have to be ready when Jedidiah arrives, no more hesitating.

        However, I admit to the uneasiness that plagues my thoughts. Due to being held for nearly a month or so, presumably, in complete lock down without seeing the surrounding areas makes this a hell of a lot harder. I don't know where I'm being held. For all I know, Jedidiah's base could be in the middle of the Sahara Desert and I could be walking out to face my death.

        Unlike the time when Stark was abducted, I'm not a millionaire owner of an important company, nobody's looking for me. I doubt if anyone even knows that I'm missing in the first place. The only person who did isn't around anymore.

        The gnawing sensation of guilt eats away at me.

        Pushing the memories bubbling up away, I force myself to focus. Now's not the time to remember all of that, no, escape first and then deal with my emotional baggage. I'd just finished attaching the head of the armor and the special surprise when the metal door squeaked open.

        "Well, well... I must admit, you do beautiful work Panic."

        Turning to face Jedidiah, I wait for what he has to say.

        "Is it ready for use yet?" he asks, cocking his head to the side with one eyebrow arched.

        "Nearly, I want to test it first. Y'know, make sure all the wiring is fully functioning. Since I guessed on how most of the innards connect, I want to make sure that there's nothing that could go wrong before sending anyone out in it."

        That caught his attention. "Alright, fine. I'll have Sully set up a room on the outer wall of the compound for you to test the suit out, only I'll be there as well. You to be nowhere near the suit. Can't risk you trying anything."

        "After last time do you really think I'd be foolish enough to do something that stupid. I'm a genius remember? How would I even manage something like that. I'm planning on using this," I show Jedidiah the small remote I designed. "It allows me to active the suit remotely, so testing would be safer."

        "Interesting..." Jedidiah seems to collect himself, returning to a stoic stance. "I'll have Sully come and retrieve the suit and I'll come by to retrieve you as soon as the testing facility is ready."

        With that, he left.

* * *

        The room is nearly the size of a military hangar, the ones for planes and tanks.

        Sully is waiting here with me for the arrival of Jedidiah and whoever else he went to get. After setting up the Iron Man armor here in the testing facility, Jedidiah left me in her with his right-hand man and then promptly left. Apparently he gave Sully orders not to allow me to test the suit until he returns.

        Now I'm pacing the room. Anxious to hurry up and get this over with. The though of warm sunlight on my face and the smell of fresh air is so alluring to me. It's been far too long and I'm dying to get out. The sound of footsteps near and I turn to the door. Jedidiah steps in, Zeke's with him, along with a lot of other henchmen who are seemingly annoyed to be here.

        The group seems to spread out around the room, closing me in. Apparently Jedidiah suspects that I might try something, he's not wrong of course, but why would he suspect me of anything to begin with?

        "Alright girl, lets see if the apple doesn't fall far from the tree. You may begin your testing."

        Nodding in Jedidiah's direction, I move back and retrieve the control remote that Jedidiah confiscated and gave to Sully for safekeeping. Typing codes into the remote, I watch as the armor beings to move. Stepping forward and back on my command. So far so good.

        "When designing the suit," I start, acting as though this were a simple weapons demo rather than what it really is. "I needed to keep in mind that whoever was in the suit needed to be protected from the inside but have heavy artillery from the outside. Arc reactor technology is complicated and makes my head hurt, I managed to figure it out after a few trial runs.

"Without the arc reactor to power the suit, the user would be left completely immobile due to the sheer weight that the metal plating of the armor accumulates together. That was simple enough. However, to fire weapons from a suit that weighs as much without heaving to redirect all the power—which would have been necessary with my first calculations—would have caused the suit to collapse in on itself and the wearer.

"By allow multiple chambers for the suit to redirect the sheer power that is given off by the arc reactor, this allows the suit to fire repulses from the hands, feet, and chest plate. Though the repulsers that can be shot from the hands shouldn't be used like this, as such, they are mostly for flight stability, but if need be, can be used as weaponry.

        "There are a few pieces of weaponry that came to mind, but I didn't have the time to fully draft the blueprints and implement them, such as a Ice Bombs to freeze enemies, or a Gravity Disrupter. Though those can always be added later I suppose. Well," I look back to see Jedidiah staring in what I can only assume is awe, though he hides it well.

        "What do you think?" I ask him.

        "Wonderful work child, this should do well. Though I'm interested in how you'd implement those other ideas. You've done well. Perhaps I'll allow you free reign on the place once you pledge your loyalty to me."

        I stay impassive. "I knew you'd never let me go free, but I don't despise the though near as much."

        "Of course not, you're to valuable to just be tossed aside. With your brilliance and my skill, we can defeat anyone within our way. You could have everything you've ever wanted girl. All the money, the prestige, to make all the things you've ever wanted and to be seen for you talent. The world will never see you the way they see your father, or his father before him."

        The air in the room feels like it's pressing down on me.

        "You'll always live in his shadow, even if he never finds out about you, but together, together we can take the world. You and I. A partnership that can send shock waves around the world. People will tremble at our names. S.H.I.E.L.D. will fall, and the Avengers will be nothing more than a fairytale."

        Jedidiah, dragging Zeke along, strolls over to the Iron Man suit and begins to walk around it.

        "There's only one problem with your plan Jedidiah," I chime, waiting for him to glance up at me. He does.

        "And that would be?" he smirks, the scar on his face crinkles a bit.

        "I don't play second fiddle, not to mention world domination is a bit to mainstream for my taste."

        "W-what? Panic, what are you—"

        Tearing my gaze away from Zeke, the only semi-friend I had here, I type the three letter code into the remote. The suit shakes, sending out an EMP wave though the entire facility, knocking out all the electricity in the base.

        I've already started for the now open door just as the warning alarm placed on the suit goes off, alerting everyone of the bomb implanted inside it.

        "THIS SUIT WILL DETONATE IN FIVE... FOUR... THREE... "

        "You bitch!" Jedidiah shouts, his voice reverberating around the room.

        One last glance back shows the terror and utter fear in Zeke's face, eye begging me not to allow it to detonate. Biting back the pain and guilt I feel, I don't look back again and narrowly avoid Sully lunging for me.

        I'm barely down the hall of the base when the suit explodes. The entire building shakes with the impact, plaster and rock fill the hall and I'm coughing all the way through it. I'd be surprised if anyone's survived it. The thought of Zeke being dead because of me makes me want to vomit.

        I didn't have a choice.

        Just as I'm about to reach a doorway the seems to lead towards a white light, someone slams me against the wall of the cave, hard. My head's swimming.

        Sully.

        He's covered in dust and bleeding from some head wound that I can't see. His clothes are torn and tattered and his face is covered in suit. He closes both hands around my throat, cutting off my air supply. My eyes feel like they're bulging out of their socket. He slams me against the wall over and over until I feel like my brains been turned to mush.

        "You're gonna pay for this girlie!" he growls, hate in his eyes.

        Black dots dance across my vision and I feel like the worlds fading. Releasing my hopeless prying of his hands, I allow him to hold me by my throat and free the bracelet around my wrist and bend it so the metal is facing out. Wrenching up, I jam the metal into Sully neck.

        He stumbles back, and I fall back to the ground, gulping greedily for air. Stumbling forward, I launch myself through the doorway and slam it shut behind me. It's an empty warehouse with the base built underground. The air is cold and the metal walls are dark and the floor is covered in dust.

        Dizzy on my feet, I run, to the best of my ability, through the warehouse and out the broken window on the far side. I have no idea where I am.

        The sun is out and the city looks nice and all, but I'm definitely not in New York City anymore.

        Cars pass and people crowds the sidewalks, but they're all speaking some language I don't understand. Everything is blurry and hazy, my head feels like it's falling off and I feel sticky. Carefully reaching around to touch the back of my head, I flinch when I feel something warm and wet.

        Looking down at the hand, it's red with blood.

        Damn...

        Stumbling along, I slow when I near some coffee shop. Or so I assume, the sign has a picture of a cup of coffee.

        Two people are seated outside the shop, one is a woman with bright red hair. The other is a man. He seems to take notice of me, as he nudges the woman. One look at his face is all that's needed. Clint Barton AKA Hawkeye. Member of the Avengers. Meaning that the woman who's with him must be...

        "Natasha Romanoff..." I mumble the name.

        Said woman turns to face me, her green eyes sharp. She doesn't flinch or react at all, she seems unaffected. Though I'm sure that's not the case, seeing as I'm bleeding all over the concrete.

        "You know my name, how?"

        Everything starts spinning, I'm gonna pass out so I say the only thing that comes to mind. "Help me."

        My legs give out beneath me, I feel Romanoff wrap her arms around my waist, keeping me from hitting the hard concrete.

        "—can you hear me kid? Wonder what happened to her?" Barton asks.

        "Doesn't matter at the moment Clint, Fury's going to want to see her. For now we need to make sure she lives long enough to tell us what happened, call Agent Hill and have her send a medical team."

        "Already on it."

        Everything's a blur after that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's chapter seven, though I might go back and rewrite the explosion scene. This chapter was a pain in the ass because I didn't want to rush it, but there also not a lot that really happens besides her escape. I wanted to try to make it more cleaver, but yeah. Also, for those who read the original, I will be adding a few new chapters when I get to those parts. For example, after Tony finds out, I'll have a chapter right after about where he went/discussions with Pepper. The end when they all go out, I'll be writing that and maybe some family bonding chapters so we get a feel about how things got to the way they were in "In the Line of Fire, Panic"
> 
> As for the Three Year Anniversary of "A Girl Named Panic" on (June 16, 2017) how do you feel about a "Panic's Story: The Battle of New York" where we get to see what happened with her during the battle of New York. It'd be a three parter, plus I have a few twists which leads to why the battle is being brought up by Panic to the team. Also, I will rewrite the rest of the series, after I finish this one and so on. Anyways, comment below and let me know and favorite it you like this rewrite, I'll be back soon!


	8. Aboard the Helicarrier

 

        What the hell...?

        My eyelids feel like ten ton weights, but somehow I manage to open them. Consistent rocking of the... whatever I'm on, woke me a few minutes ago. I was hoping to possible fall back asleep, but that plan fell through. Every muscle in my body aches, my head is wrapped with something, and I'm pretty sure I'm hooked to an IV or something very similar.

        Sleek metal walls slant vertically upward to the ceiling. All four walls are like that. What happened? I'm racking my brain for a memory, anything to explain how I ended up in some cell.

        Barton and Romanoff! My eyes widen.

        That's right, I was so out of it that I didn't bother to hide from them. Hell, I actually said Natasha's name to her face, a pretty clear sign that I know who she is. Probably not my smartest move, but I would have bled out if they hadn't helped me.

        As I push myself up in the bed, I wince at the pain. My skull feels like it's about to break in half.

        There are needles in my arm, passing fluids through the tube. Seeing as how Jedidiah didn't give me a lot of water, I'm not surprised that I'm in need of fluids from dehydration. Heavy-handed and certainly ungraceful, I yank the needles from my arm. First things first, figure out where the hell I am and get out of here. The farther away from the Avengers I get, the better I am.

        Using the bed as a support, I ease myself forward. Testing whether or not my legs can support the weight of my body.

        Thankfully, aside from some wobbly knees, I manage to stay upright. A full length mirror is mounted against the door of the room and I slowly make my way over to it, I need to see how bad I look. My red hair is a rat-nest, my brown eyes are dull and the purple bags beneath them doesn't help, and my head is wrapped in three layers of white gauze.

        Damn it, I really shouldn't be here. I can't exactly afford a hospital bill though, more than likely I would have died by bleeding out if I hadn't confronted the two of them. Though that puts me in a tight spot.

        Having to escape the hold of S.H.I.E.L.D. and two of the six major Avengers, one of which makes up half of my DNA.

        When I passed out, I remember a few words passed between the two. Natasha Romanoff had Clint Barton report to Agent Hill, Maria Hill, and to have her send a medical team to treat me.

        And given the shaking every so often, I can assume that that's turbulence. They must have taken me back to S.H.I.E.L.D.'s Helicarrier. Though I have no idea why it'd still be in-air seeing as the whole Chitauri invasion crisis was adverted.

        Fantastic, if being held by another lunatic Stane wasn't bad enough, now I'm trapped hundreds of feet in the air on a floating death trap on a ship that said father who I don't want to meet could possible be on and has been on in the not to distant past. Wonderful.

        Something in my gut warns me to step back, after being held captive, I've learned to trust my instincts. Stumbling back a few paces, I watch as the automatic doors swish open in a seemingly easy fashion. Natasha Romanoff steps into the room and rather than being dressed in an over dramatic black catsuit, she's dressed in casual clothes. The kind you'd see normal people in.

        A beige colored leather jacket over a black T-shirt. Tight fitting blue jeans, and leather boots that come up to her knees. Her short red hair curls around her neck, and her face remains passive.

        Deciding that pissing of the Black Widow would be a terrible idea, I remain civil. "Hello Natasha."

        She only quirks an eyebrow in an intimidating fashion. "What's your name?"

        "Oh, I didn't tell you...? Then it must be none of your business..." I say with the most deadpanned expression I can manage.

        "Funny. Whatever, Nick Fury asked me to get you so follow me."

        I don't bother to refuse, I'd rather keep my dignity intact rather than be dragged kicking and screaming. She steps through the door and I follow behind, keeping a few paces back.

        Natasha Romanoff leads me into a wide open room, people are seated around computer screens and there's an entire section of the Helicarrier made entirely of glass. This must be the front of the ship, seeing as Fury's perch is in here. A woman dressed in a deep navy blue jumpsuit greets us, her brown hair is tied back in a bun and there's a comm unit in her ear.

        "Fury, Agent Romanoff's brought our guest."

        Natasha nods to the woman, who I assume is Agent Hill. Said woman nods for Romanoff in a the direction of the door at the back of the room and that's the direction we're heading. The hallway's bustling with activity, S.H.I.E.L.D. agents scurrying around the building like rats aboard a unsanitary ship.

        "When we reach the Interrogation Room, I'll warn you know, Fury won't be as pleasant with your attitude as I am. Having dealt with Tony Stark personally, I imagine it would drive a person mad after having to deal with it as often as the Director has. He'll want to know everything. No matter how minor the detail."

        "Well I'm not one for all that mushy heart-to-heart bullshit and the tell-all sort of stuff, so the freaky pirate will just have to deal with it. Besides, it's not like he tried to keep The Avengers a secret. Figuring out who you all are is easy enough. Just using a matching software and the internet would make it an easy gamble."

        Natasha Romanoff snorts. "Maybe for notable people such a Bruce Banner, he's known for his scientific breakthroughs, Steve Rogers and his involvement in World War II, and Tony Stark as he'd announced his identity to the public. For you to know me and Barton, no, that's not something easy to find out."

        "Let's just say that you can find out anything if you look hard enough. Besides, unlike the rest of the general public, I'm not a complete moron who buys any of S.H.I.E.L.D.'s bullshit stories. You're all covering things up, the only reason S.H.I.E.L.D. isn't trying as hard to cover up New York is because everyone saw it."

        She says nothing to that. Instead she stops outside a door and motions me forward. This must be where she stops, meaning Nick Fury's on the other side of that door. As soon as I near the door, it automatically opens for me.

        Standing in the middle of the room was a man dressed from head to toes in leather. Not even an exaggeration. His eye patch was exactly where I expected it to be, and he seems completely annoyed by this entire situation. Nick Fury turns to face me when I step further into the eight by ten foot room. The walls are silver and match the rest of the trimmings.

        "Ah, nice of you to finally wake up. I'm—"

        "Nick Fury, the director of S.H.I.E.L.D. and one of the founders of the Avengers. I know exactly who you are, so what can I do for ya?"

        Plopping down in the steel chair meant for me, I casually cross my arms behind my head to prop it up. Nick Fury moves around so he's standing over me, his frown even deeper than before.

        "Ever heard of personal space?" I huff, slightly annoyed.

        What's a girl gotta do to be left along around this joint? Such rude people, I snicker internally at the thought.

        Fury sighs. "And I thought Stark was bad enough, the last thing I need is two smart-mouths. Romanoff said you were difficult, so I'm tired of these games, she and Barton were sure to mention how much you knew about them. So let's start with that."

        "You'd like that wouldn't you?" I smirk at him. "However, there's a problem y'see. Authority and I just don't go together that well."

        "Just like another pain in the ass I know, what happened to you? You were on deaths door when Agent Hill's medical team retrieved you, or would you prefer to protect your attackers?"

        "No, I don't mind telling you that. Let's just say that Obadiah Stane's brother can hold one hell of a grudge."

        "Obadiah Stane as in..."

        "That guy that ran Stark Industries for a bit after the death of Howard Stark? Yeah, one in the same. Apparently the psycho's got a little brother who pretty pissed with S.H.I.E.L.D. for covering up his death. His family tree likes to abduct people, who could've guessed it?"

        "Why kidnap you though? If he's angry with S.H.I.E.L.D. and with Tony Stark, what do you have to do with anything?"

        "Uh... well you see..." I was about to come up with a lie when the sound of static silences the possible response. The voice of Agent Hill comes from the comm until in Fury's ear.

        "Sir, Mr. Rogers has arrived. He's requesting your presence."

        "Alright, tell him I'll meet him in the conference room shortly, Fury out."

        "Question! Who of the Avengers are currently aboard this flying death trap?" I ask, suddenly needing to know if I have to potential to run into my father on the thing. If so I need to mentally prepare myself.

        "Why do you want to know?" he shoots back.

        "I need to know if I should be ready for any raving loons anytime soon, y'know green monsters and raging gods. All that jazz."

        "Sure. Lucky for you, Thor and his crazy step-brother are off-world, Banner's with Stark, and the latter is currently back at his tower working on some type of clean energy, among other things."

        Internally I breathe a sigh of relief. At least I don't have to worry about running into Stark for the time being. That's the last thing I need on top of being held in S.H.I.E.L.D. custody. It's not that I'm worried about Stark would recognizing me on sight as he must have spoken to a hundred people, what's the likelihood of him remembering some random fifteen year old girl?

        Not very high.

        No, I'm more concerned about my own reaction and how the observing eyes of Nick Fury and whoever else might notice some similarities between me and him. Tony Stark being far away makes it less likely for Fury to notice anything similar between us.

        I'm sure that being around me brings about a familiar feeling, but without him here to add to it, Nick Fury's less likely to pinpoint who I remind him of.

        And that's what I'm counting on.

        "There's something about you that remind me of somebody kid." Nick seems to inspect me.

        "Ay, I'm not a kid! I'm fifteen years old and I can take care of myself, thank you very much!" I protest, immaturely sticking my tongue out at him.

        "Agent Romanoff, please escort our guest back to her room. I'm late in meeting with Rogers and will have to reschedule this interrogation," Fury says into the mic piece on his comm.

        The door of the interrogation rooms opens to reveal Natasha Romanoff. Her face as humorless and stiff as it was when she brought me here only ten minutes prior. Fury motions for me to follow her and he heads down the opposite direction of the hallways and back where I assume the conference room is stationed.

        "I'm not so sure about that..." Romanoff says, a few moments after we part with Fury. I stare at the back of her head in confusion. What the hell is she talking about? Is the high altitude preventing appropriate oxygen flow to her brain.

        "That you're able to take care of yourself I mean, you certainly act like a child."

        "You and Fury don't know a damn thing about me, I've been on my own for five years now. This is the first time I've ever run into S.H.I.E.L.D. and its cronies. I've got a few secrets, some of which are better off hidden. Besides, if I wanted to, I could take control of the ship. Rewiring it wouldn't be too hard."

        "Oh, I'm sure you could," Natasha Romanoff says slowly, dragging out the syllables in the most unbelieving tone.

        Glaring at the back of her head, I can feel my cheeks heating with anger and embarrassment at being mocked. I make a silent vow to myself.  _Challenge accepted Ms. Romanoff._..

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And done! Okay, so next chapter will be entirely new content. After reading through this chapter and knowing how everything originally progressed, I thought that there needs to be more details with Panic aboard the Helicarrier and her 'bonding' with Romanoff for their sort-of friendship that happens later on in the story. In the original, it was sort of rushed, but now I can make it progress naturally. Anyways, enjoy!


	9. How to Outsmart Your Enemies

**Third Person POV:**

        Natasha Romanoff wasn't one to take idle threats seriously, especially not from a fifteen year old.

        However, it did occur to her that maybe it wasn't the smartest move to make. The girl, whose name is still unknown, didn't sound like she was bluffing, there was a hint of annoyance in her brown eyes. The type of fire that radiated determination and challenge. That spark in her eyes was oddly familiar, she felt like she should know where from, but the name keeps slipping away from her tongue.

        When the name does click, Natasha know's she'll feel like a total idiot once it's revealed. It's obvious, but too far out of her reach.

        Filing the unknown figure for whom the girl resembles away for a later date of contemplation, Natasha is surprised by the silence over her comm. Usually she can hear the responses of various agents and Director Fury responding. Tapping the ear piece, she waits for response.

        Nothing.

        Then, the sound of Nick Fury. "Agent Romanoff, we have a problem. Meet me on the bridge."

        "I'm on my way."

        Not hesitating, Natasha abandons the conference room where Director Fury and Steve Rogers were formerly meeting at. Apparently, from what Fury had confided to her, Rogers was planning on joining S.H.I.E.L.D. much to her surprise. Though she hid that well. Maybe it shouldn't be that shocking, Rogers had been a soldier during the war and being a special case as he is, the only logical place for him would be S.H.I.E.L.D.

        Not to mention that his ex-girlfriend was one of the founders.

        By the time she reached the bridge, Agent Maria Hill, Clint Barton, and Steve Rogers were already there. Nick Fury was pacing back and forth, that's never a good thing. The dark look in his eye showed his frustration and annoyance.

        As for Maria Hill, she was hunched over a computer screen. It showed a diagram of the Helicarrier, sections of which were glowing red.

        "What's going on?" Natasha asks, slipping silently next to Agent Hill to take a look at the screen. Clearly something was wrong in those sections of the ship, though rather than being a steady glow that would be there if it was damaged, the red faded out and in.

        "The systems gone haywire, doors are opening and closing on the staff, computers are opening tabs on their own, music is playing over the inner comms in the medical wing, not to mention that the hidden files were hacked and rifled through," Maria said in one breath. She's typing furiously on the keyboard, seemingly trying to override the hacker.

        "Who would want to hack S.H.I.E.L.D.?" Steve asks the obvious question.

        "Just about everyone and their grandmother," Clint replies, seemingly amused by the thought of an elderly woman seated at some dinosaur computer hacking into a secret organization. "Better question is, who has the most reason to and what motive."

        A bad feeling settles in Natasha's stomach. Just before she was leaving the girl in her holding cell, there was a gleam in her eyes and then... she smirked. The sight was unsettling. Would that girl really be stupid enough to hack the Helicarrier?

        "Stark?" Steve throws out the name, not even aware of Natasha's current dilemma. "He was doing plenty of hacking when we were dealing with the Loki threat. Not to mention he's done it before so a second time wouldn't be a stretch."

        "Not likely," Director Fury says, halting in his pacing. "While Stark did hack into the systems to find out about Phase 2"—Steve stiffens at that—"he wouldn't waste his time messing with the crew like this, especially without being here to see it in person. It's more likely for the hacker to be on the inside."

        Maria Hill, who has been tuning out the others conversation, gives the computer screen a light grin before turning to face Nick Fury and one third of the Avengers. "I've figured out where the signal's coming from."

        "Where's it coming from?" Clint asks, turning to Agent Hill.

        "One of the lower levels, near the labs."

        "Then the four of you should go pay our little hacker a visit, right?" though the tone Nick Fury uses make the the words sound more like a statement than a question.

        With that the four of them made their way down to the lab, Fury opting out as he had more important matters to attend. Through various halls they went, passing the medical wing, and the engine room where Steve didn't have very fond memories of, and finally reaching the lab where all hell broke loose.

        Where Earth's Mightiest Heroes all behave like children, shouting hateful and hurtful things at one another.

        Stepping past the room, Agent Hill leads them to another room next to the lab. It's another computer room, there are at least a dozen of so that sit on the white table pressing against the steel walls. One computer screen is lit up. From the doorway, it's apparent that whoever hacked the system wants to send them all on a wild goose chase.

        It was intentional. That's why Agent Hill was so easily able to track down the signal, that was the plan and they all fell right into it. Though Natasha Romanoff suspected that Director Fury was aware that this wouldn't be so easy. Though she had yet to inform everyone of her suspicion about the girl in holding.

        Natasha takes a seat at the computer, looking over the pop up.

        Written with a digital sticky note on the screen was only a few words written in the worst of all fonts, comic sans.

_Having fun yet? XP_

        That sealed in for Natasha Romanoff, it was the only logical explanation. Not to mention that all this so-called hacker has done is mess around with the crew, nothing dark or nefarious. Just an irritating teenager with an intellect far beyond her age with far too much time on her hands.

        If the hacker was dangerous, why would they leave such a silly note for her to find. So the girl wasn't bluffing after all, she was indeed smart enough to hijack control on the Helicarrier if she desired. Interesting. Not many people are intelligent enough to hack through S.H.I.E.L.D.'s system, the few notable being Tony Stark and presumably Bruce Banner if he cared enough to do so.

        A fifteen year old girl who's that smart and who has been alone for five years? That was odd.

        Something's wrong here...

* * *

**Panic's POV:**

        Hopefully Romanoff found my little note, it'd be a shame if I went through all this trouble for nothing.

        After convincing some unsuspecting intern with a tablet that I really needed to use the rest room, I managed to knock them out, tie em up, and hide them in one of the many empty rooms aboard this flying death trap. It wasn't a total lie. The restroom I mean. Considering I'm currently taking refuge in an empty stall in said restroom on one of the lower levels.

        It's worth it though.

        What satisfaction for me. Sending the great Agent Romanoff on a wild goose chase is a wonderful pastime. Maybe I should make this a hobby? It's sure to be a riot, well, it there was anyone around for me to use it on of course...

        Banishing the dark thought to the back of my mind, I tap at the tablet resting in my lap. How dare she? My anger at Romanoff keeping the sorrow and guilt away. How could anyone dare to underestimate me! Sure I'm no rich celebrity or vigilante running through the streets in brightly colored spandex, but that doesn't mean that I should be taken lightly.

        S.H.I.E.L.D. has a lesson to learn about people like me. Never underestimate a pretty girl. Though I'd assumed that'd be a lesson they already learned, with Romanoff being the deadly assassin she was, but apparently Nick Fury and his cronies aren't nearly as informed as they think they are.

        Plus, I'm happy to teach the under-educated.

        It's a tough job, but someone's gotta do it. Punishment for thinking that some shady organization bent on lying to the mass population about super-people certainly have it coming. Smirking as I override the systems for the fire alarms, the blaring of sirens and flashing red lights is all the warning given. The sound of nearly fifty gallons of water pours down from the sprinkler system.

        Tucking the tablet under my arm, I've just hauled myself up over the stalls and am ready to slip back into the ventilation ducks when the bathroom door swings open. Natasha Romanoff is soaked from head to toe, her bouncing red curls flat against her face like a drooping plant.

        She hides it well, but I notice the slight twitching of her left eye every twenty-five seconds apart.

        "You managed to obtain a tablet, hack the entire S.H.I.E.L.D. network, set off the sprinklers, and now what?" she asks, her tone not expressing an ounce of her true emotions. Impressive.

        "Well that's the thing, I set up one more little thing..." I seemingly wince with embarrassment and hold my thumb and pointer finger an inch apart as I said that. And it should be starting any moment now.

        "And that would be...?"

        Over the intercom, the speakers roared to life.

_"I'M A BARBIE GIRL IN A BARBIE WORLD, WRAPPED IN PLASTIC, IT'S FANTASTIC. YOU CAN BRUSH MY HAIR, UNDRESS ME EVERYWHERE..."_

        "You've got to be kidding me..." Natasha seemingly said, sighing to herself as the upbeat pop tune continued in the background. I would have picked a much funnier song, but hey, I'm three hundred feet in the air and working off a stolen tablet in one of the most secure facilities in the world. I think I'm doing pretty damn well if I do say so myself.

        Romanoff rings out her red hair with a glare on her face and if looks could kill, I'd have been doused in gasoline and set ablaze.

* * *

        A couple hours later, I find myself seated in the same interrogation room from earlier. This time it's empty and there's no scary pirate to welcome me with his lively personality. I snort at the idea of Nick Fury cracking a joke or lightening up.

        Apparently the crew aboard the Helicarrier wasn't to happy with my taste in music because it took the tech team three and a half hours to shut it off. Though it was pretty funny to see Nick's eyes bugging out when Romanoff escorted me though the hall. Unfortunately she didn't let me keep the tablet. I'm on the verge of falling asleep when the door opens.

        Nick Fury strolls in with an ominous glint in his dark eye. The feeling immediately kick starts my fight or flight reaction and I try desperately to silence the urge to flee. He seems to be looking at me like a fly in a jar.

        "You're good, I'll admit it. Very good and impressive for your age. Not many people are capable of hacking into S.H.I.E.L.D.'s network, but you made it seem like a cake walk. Surprisingly better than my tech team, but they're not half-backed hackers either,  _Panic_."

        I smirk. "You've got my name, congrats."

        The amusement in his eye doesn't fade. "You don't seem surprised by the news. I figured as much, you knew we'd find something, but only your first name. No surname, relative, birth date, nothing. It's like you don't exist."

        "Hmm, maybe that's the way I like it. No name, no trace, no drama."

        Fury laughs, it's not at a joke. "Maybe we don't have your official surname, but I'll take a shot in the dark Ms.  _Stark_."

        In that moment, I felt like I'd been dropped in liquid-nitrogen. I froze and the air in my lungs felt like a fire threatening to burn me from the inside out. "I-I-I have no idea what you're talking about..."

        "You might be able to outsmart nearly everyone around, but you can't outsmart DNA." Nick Fury holds out a piece of paper, one with two samples of DNA, mine and none other than Tony Stark. "I thought you seemed familiar, do you want to explain yourself to me or should I shall daddy-dearest?"

        I say the first thing that comes to me. "Shit..."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here it is, sorry this took so long, but I've been having issues with my eyes and staring at computer screens too long so t's taken me awhile to finish this. I'll try to get the next one out sooner, but I can't promise anything. Anyways, till next time!


	10. Welcome to S.H.I.E.L.D.

 

* * *

        "Now," Fury says, pulling up a metal chair and taking a seat. "Do you want to explain, or do I have to make a phone call?"

        A desperate croak escapes me. Followed by a defeated sigh. "What do you wanna know?"

        "Everything, starting off with you and how you're possible."

        Raising an eyebrow, I smirk. "Hey, I'm sure that you already know where babies come from Nicky. If that's something I have to explain then I think we're gonna be here for awhile."

        "Panic." There's a warning in his tone.

        ''Okay, so as you can probably guess, Tony Stark has no idea that I exist. Mom wanted it that way, it's not like he's that hard to find. She never told me what happened, or why she really didn't want him to know about me, but given the guys track record and history, it's not like it's a shocker. The guys slept with everybody."

        "How about we start with your mother. What's her name, age, occupation? And why aren't you with her?"

        "Vanessa, her name was Vanessa Wallace and she's dead. What does her age and occupation matter now? As for me, I'm fifteen years old and can take care of myself. I don't need some overgrown child telling me what to do."

        "There was an incident a few weeks back, at a bank..."

        "Yeah so I broke into a bank. I needed the cash and besides, I could've done a whole lot worse and you know it."

        Fury nods. "Given what I've seen, you're certainly a handful. Stark's intelligence passed down, for better or worse. You knew he was your father, yet he doesn't know about you and I can assume, from your apparent disdain for him, that you'd prefer to keep it that way. So I'll make you a deal Panic, you'll help S.H.I.E.L.D. with certain tasks involving your area of expertise and Stark will remain unaware."

        I scowl, glaring at the man in black. "Are you blackmailing me!?"

        "Don't consider it blackmail, I'd say it's a terms of agreement. You help me and I'll help you. A mutual deal, your intelligence should be used for the betterment of the world, rather than an overactive child with too much time on her hands. What do you say?"

        "What if I say no?" I ask, leaning back in my chair and crossing my arms.

        "Then Mr. Stark will be receiving a call about an illegitimate daughter currently in S.H.I.E.L.D. custody."

        "Fine, but this stays between you and me. None of your S.H.I.E.L.D. cronies are to be told about my  _connection_  to Stark, that includes your precious Agent Barton and Romanoff."

        He smirks. "We have a deal Ms. Wallace."

* * *

        The following morning I'm awoken by a stern faced Natasha Romanoff whose dressed in her catsuit with arms crossed over her chest.

        It's gotta be around five in the morning, the sun's not even out yet and the way my eye lids droop heavily tells me it's too early for anything living being to be awake at this hour. Yawning, I swat my hand at her in attempt to snuggle back under the covers of the bed.

        "Get up. Fury requested that I begin your training."

        Cracking an eye at her I muffle words out. "What training...?"

        "You've agreed to be apart of S.H.I.E.L.D. and while you're not going to be a field agent, Nick Fury's insisted that you're a special case and will be undergoing intense training to be able to protect yourself. Now let's go."

        And so I toss the pillow in her general direction and drag myself up from the warmth of the sheets, only to shiver at the cool airs contact with my skin. Natasha Romanoff leads me through a maze of hallways and hands me a S.H.I.E.L.D standard issue jumpsuit like Maria Hill was wearing earlier. I quirk an eyebrow at her, wondering why the getup.

        "You can't exactly fight in those can you," she asks, appraising my torn and tattered clothing.

        "Point taken..." I mumble, appraising the slashes, tears, and burns on the fabric. Natasha turns her back to me and allows me to change into the jumpsuit, which I promptly do and am surprised by how comfortable the material is on my skin.

        When I step out of the locker room, Natasha Romanoff is waiting outside for me. We head towards a large door at the end of the hall. It must be the training room, why else would she be leading me there?

        She open the door with a loud bang and the dark room is illuminated by florescent's.

        "Welcome to the the Training Ground."

        "Fantastic..." I retort, ensuring the sarcastic tone is heavy.

        "You're going to be a joy to train," Natasha Romanoff replies, tone indicating the opposite. "You'll start with ten laps around the room, begin."

        And thus my hell began.

        For two months I spent training with Agent Romanoff in the Training Ground. From armed and unarmed combat training, to various forms of martial arts, to defense lessons, and weapon use, and even some advanced ballet and gymnastics included. At the start of it, my limbs felt like jelly and my muscles always ached something awful.

        However, the ballet and gymnastics made the rest of my training easier. The flexibility that comes with ballet certainly helped.

        Just when everything seemed to be settling down, Nick Fury just had to turn everything upside down.

        "There's been unusual activity in the area where our newest agent Miss Wallace said she was held. The reports that I've received imply that this Jedidiah Stane is working overtime to find our tech such, I'll be calling in the Avengers. Prepare the helicarrier's conference room for use," Nick Fury's voice rang loudly over the intercom.

        Wait, what.  _What?_  He didn't just say that did he?

        Pacing furiously back and forth in the Training Ground, pivoting sharply, I make a bee-line for the door. My only thought on where Fury would be at the moment, maybe I could talk him out of it? I shake my head, banishing the preposterous idea.

        Nothing I could say would change the pirate's mind, though I highly doubt the reason for summoning the 'Dream Team' is solely because of my reckless escape from Jedidiah's clutches. I'm sure that was only mentioned by Fury so I'd be less inclined to pry into S.H.I.E.L.D.'s sudden interest in the guy. Obviously old Jed's got something else up his sleeve.

        The only question is what?

        What could he possibly have in mind that would require Earth's Mightiest Heroes?

* * *

        By the nearing hours of their arrival, I've gnawed my fingernails down to the nub and have started in on my cuticles.

        Nick Fury has ordered me to stay in my room unless called. For once I'm more that happy to obey such a order, so long as it keeps my good for nothing father from finding out about me. Thus with nothing to stop my mind from whirling a mile a minute about the impending arrival, I've been reduced chewing on my nails like a child and pacing the floor in my room.

        A swooshing to my left alerts me to her presence. Agent Romanoff stopped at the doorway. Not even stopping to acknowledge her I continue my irritable pacing.

        "Director Fury's changed his mind. He wanted me to escort you down to the Tech Lab with the rest of S.H.I.E.L.D.'s hackers."

        Pausing in my pacing, I glance at her. "Why?"

        "I didn't ask, but if I had to guess... I'd say that Director Fury's decided that keeping you cooped up here may be more trouble than it's worth and perhaps having your mind on the issue at hand may speed up the process."

She nodded for me to follow. I remained where I was. "I'd like to speak with him first."

        Agent Romanoff seemed to look me over, as if trying to deconstruct my thoughts and motivations. Finally she reached a head to her earpiece and informed Nick Fury of my request. A sigh came through the speaker.

"Fine, I'll meet you two by the Computer Lab."

* * *

        After tapping the table so frantically that the bones in my fingers are actually swelling, I've leaned a very important fact.S.H.I.E.L.D. work is completely boring beyond all belief and that staring at a brick wall could be more life enhancing. Especially when one's fully aware of her father's imminent arrival. Shaking my head and pulling my thumb from my mouth, I focus back on the gleaming screen before me.

        Nick Fury asked for me to do a basics search through as many databases as possible for any information on Jedidiah Stane. Birth certificate, marriage documents, business contracts, internet profiles, anything remotely related. There are a few old images of a young Obadiah with a small boy beside him.

        Apparently he died in an bad accident with a school bus and an oncoming diesel truck. Whether Obadiah knew he survived is questionable at best.

        Fed up with digging through empty holes, I think back to the night of my capture. Maybe the video footage at the Stark Expo will prove more fruitful. At least that will allow understanding on what happened exactly, like where he came from, who he was with, what he wore in public settings.

        As soon as the video feed loads, I notice just how dark it really was. There were few lights, with the exception of the headlights of cars on the adjacent road. Rows of cars lined the parking lot and there were tons of people loitering around the building, except the door which I exited.  _Weird_. Seeing yourself on camera footage, I mean.

        I watch myself glance around briefly before hurrying across the street, moving in a way that blends her into the night. From around the dimly lit corner, a man, reaches out for her, me. Grabbing mirror-me's arm forcefully he gives a shake. Past Panic pulls her arm back and throws it full force at his face, I shake my hand as I remember the tingling sensation of the act.

        Furious as told by the set of his shoulders, the man in black covered her-my face with a white cloth and I watch as she-we slowly drift from consciousness. The way our legs buckled under the weight. The man caught her-us before she-we fell. He hauled us up into his arm and slipped silently into the night. Just as I was to turn to the video off, movement caught my eye.

        A woman stood opposite to where I had been. In front of the Expo building. She was dressed from head to toe in black with veil hiding her face. Then the camera sputtered and the footage went out.

        Who was that woman? I can't recall ever seeing her before. Yet she looked subdued, sad. Even without her face, she had an air of solemn resignation.

        What would she be standing there watching for, and wouldn't any person have reported the kidnapping of a child. I may not consider myself one as I'm fifteen years old and don't need protecting, but an adult wouldn't see it that way.

        Something needled away at me, there was something distinctly familiar about her. Somehow, I knew her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so here it is. I finally finished this chapter. It was so difficult trying to figure out what I wanted to happen before I had to stay off for such a while and every time I tried to write more, I found myself stumped about it. Having no idea what I wanted to happen and not wanting to rush anything. Hopefully it won't be as difficult to write the next one.


	11. Daddy Dearest and Earth's Mightiest Heroes

        Peeking around the corner, I breath a sigh of relief to see the board room totally empty.

        Fear of seeing Tony Stark has kept me cooped up in the computer lab nearly all day and most of the evening the day before. Apparently the discussions lasted longer than Fury intended as they were still here at two in the morning. I had to slip past the room like a damn criminal just to go to the restroom, apparently the one near the lab flooded.

        How a restroom in a floating airship is beyond me, but it happened.

        Taking a seat at the furthers seat from the door in the board room, I banish the self-abducting video from my thoughts, for the moment anyway, deciding to view Fury's little board meeting. It's always better to stay informed, even if I'm  _technically_  working for S.H.I.E.L.D. and his cronies.

        The feed is a bit grainy but a few tweeks and I managed to get a somewhat view able image. Nick Fury stood clad in black at the front of the table, waiting.

        Steve Rogers—Captain Spangles more like it—was already there, seated closest to Fury along with Agent Romanoff whose red hair shines brightly against the camera's terrible footage, and of course Agent Barton who is seated next to Romanoff and directly across from Steve Rogers. Not even ten seconds later, the automatic doors whoosh open and in steps Bruce Banner who's fidgeting and worrying his lip.

        He takes a place next to Steve Rogers.

        Thor is the next to arrive, almighty in his armor and blond hair. His cape swirls around in a wonderfully humors fashion. I can't help but imagine the Almighty Thor tripping over the hem of his own cape and falling flat on his face. Unfortunately that doesn't happen. He strolls in with finesse and take a seat at the end of the table, near the doors.

        After watching the Avengers stir uncomfortably in their chair for a few minutes, I fast-forward but not before hearing Fury's drawing voice say: "Of course Mr. Stark has to waste everyone's time..."

        I nearly pass his entrance and have to rewind back a few scenes. Eyes focused solely on the doorway, I barely notice that I've sucked my bottom lip in my mouth and begun to nip at it. My fingers tugged at the hem of my top as I pressed the play button.

        The door opens and Tony Stark swaggers through the door and into the room like he owns it. The stereotypical appearance of a smug rich kid with a silver spoon in his mouth. "What do you need, Cyclopes? I was in the middle of something pretty important before you started haranguing me."

        "Thank You Mr. Stark, for finally joining us..." Nick Fury says, no hidden amount of sarcasm in his dull tone.

        Tony takes a seat beside Banner, as Nick turns his one eye on the entire team.

        "Suspicious activity has recently been taking place in," he motions in a wide movement to the map behind him. "In this general area. Luckily we happen to have a pretty accurate assumption of who's behind this." A picture of fills the screen: a man with blonde hair, ice blue eyes, and a scar slashed across his eye. "This is Jedidiah Stane."

        Tony, who'd been leaning back on two legs of the chair suddenly snaps forward with an ominous crack. "Stane?"

        "The younger brother to Obadiah Stane, your old business partner. The same. S.H.I.E.L.D. had been rather suspicious about the nature of his believed death, but haven't had the time to delve further into it. Recently we've discovered a young woman who escaped his capture and has confided to us about Jedidiah and his goals. Most of which involved revenge on you Mr. Stark as well as to see S.H.I.E.L.D fall."

        Thor, Steve Rogers, and Bruce Banner all seemed confused, probably because they weren't there for that debacle.

        "Why would this Jedidah Stand be seeking such things?" Thor asked.

        "Well he might not be too happy about the fact that I killed his psycho brother after he tried to kill me and take over my company, not to mention illegally dealing my own weapons away to terrorists, just a thought?" Stark replies snappily.

        "He's probably not to happy about S.H.I.E.L.D. covering up the truth either," Natasha Romanoff throws out there.

        "Indeed, as such, he seeks revenge against Mr. Stark and to see to the collapse of S.H.I.E.L.D. and is attempting to use any means necessary. He has a secret group working with him. Though he's been delayed, possibly injured. That is a unknown however, as my source didn't see him after their escape," Fury said.

        "Source, who?" Steve asks, leaning forward.

        "The person wishes to remain anonymous," Clint Barton says, turning to Steve. "They have agreed to work with S.H.I.E.L.D. to help bring him in."

        "How do we know this  _'source'_  can be trusted?" Banner asked, his attention on Nick Fury.

        "The source has given accurate and detailed descriptions of locations, faces, weaponry, and a list of names of the suspects. They've also have a rather important link to someone that leads me to believe that they're telling the truth. Their agreement to use their asset to help S.H.I.E.L.D. and out own knowledge against the person makes me confident in their information."

        That caught the Avengers attention.

        "You have something on them, don't you? Blackmail," Steve decided, fixing his gaze on Fury with narrowing eyes.

        Nick Fury nods. "There is something of value that I have over the source, one that not even Agent Romanoff and Barton are aware of. It is something that will stay between the two of us, unless needing to push them. So far the source has kept to the agreement and their secret shall remain."

        "It must be something big, considering how hostile they were about being in S.H.I.E.L.D custody. The source was rather vexed about it when you sent me to retrieved them from holding," Natasha Romanoff chimes in from the seat beside Barton.

        "And you're sure about this?" Barton presses.

        "As of this moment, yes. The source has given no reasons to doubt their claim. Now onto the next matter of business. Several fluctuation in waves have been growing more common lately and I believe this trace to Jedidiah Stane and whatever plan he's working on. They started a few months back and have been steadily rising ever since."

        "So aside from my ex-partner's psycho brother, funny radio waves in the next  _major_  topic. Oh no, the satellites cutting out, whatever shall we do?" Tony Stark snorts from the back of the room. "There must be more important things to discuss, I do have a life outside of this, unlike you boring lot."

        "Not radio waves Mr. Stark, during one of these fluctuations on a satellite, S.H.I.E.L.D. discovered this encoded message hidden in the broadcasting, courtesy of our  _source_."

        The black screen in the corner of the room crackled as Nick Fury turned it on. The sound quality garbage and the sound awful enough to make a cat shriek sound pleasant. Suddenly the footage cuts, and a black background appears, as does a man.

        "Testing, testing, can anyone hear me? Ah yes, there we are. Greetings all, while I'd love to spend this time describing my in-depth plans, I'm afraid there isn't that sort of time so I'll be brief. I am known as Nereza, the founder of Vortex. A group dedicated to revealing the truth and bringing down the oppressors who seek to silence us.

        "I assume that the  _great_   _Avengers_  are watching so I'll let you in on a secret, there a many cogs in motion here and you'd do well to ensure you watch the right ones. Nick Fury might have a new little informant, but I doubt she'd be so cooperative without the little incentive that I'm sure he is aware of. Unfortunately for her, Jedidiah made sure to inform me of the little brats identity.

        "Not surprising really considering her sire. There is more darkness in her past than you realize Mr. Fury perhaps a little research will do you well. Don't worry, you'll hear from me very soon."

        The satellite cuts out.

        My heart thrums painfully against my rib cage. Fury had cut the video footage to exclude the last portion out after I finished decoding it, he insisted that Agent Romanoff continue training me. She'd suddenly appeared from thin air and hauled me away before I could examine the file. Somehow, he'd managed to get his hands on it before I returned.

        Now Jedidiah's gone off and told my biggest secret to his current ally Nereza who has free reign to reveal it at any moment. A ticking time bomb waiting for detonation.

 _"Damn..."_ I hiss the word.

        Three people with the knowledge that would bury me six feet under. Too many people with such a huge secret to hold over my head, to use as a sort of blackmail to keep me in line.

        "You do know it's unprofessional to eavesdrop on a past conversation that happened a day ago, not to mention spying via video footage, but I can't talk. I do the same thing after all," an amused voice sounds behind me.

        Jerking with surprised, I slap the computer shut with an audible crack and turn to face the voice. My heart sank to my stomach, dread filling every recesses of my being. There at the doorway in all his supposed glory, was the last person I ever wanted to see: Tony Stark.

        Dressed in a fading grey T-shirt with AC/DC on the front and blue jeans, he looked anything but a billionaire playboy. His brown hair messy and eyes alight with slyness. If not for his face in the papers, you'd never really tell by his attire. An uncomfortable squirming—almost reminiscent of wiggling worms—in the pit of my stomach leave me a queasy feeling.  _Keep yourself together Panic, play along._

        Pushing the unease down, I cover it with a snotty aloofness. "Surprising to see you here Mr. Stark, Director Fury hadn't mentioned that you'd be staying."

        "Fury doesn't mention a lot of things, besides, I figured it'd be easier to figure out what the pirate's hiding if I did some snooping, and look what I found. A teenager watching confidential footage, yet you seem completely unperturbed meaning that you must be working for S.H.I.E.L.D. and logic dictated that you must be ' _the source_ ' that Fury mentioned. Am I right?"

        He smirked in a knowing way, crossing his arms over his chest as if he had it all figured out.

        "I apologize Mr. Stark, but I not quite sure to what you're referring. There's not way that I could possibly be that, as you said, I'm just a silly little teenager visiting her cool aunt who worked here," I reply, adding a sickening lair of sugar to my voice.

        He glared at the use of the title. "You can cut it out with the Mr. Stark stuff, that was my old man. As for that little show there," he motions at me. "You're certainly one hell of an actor kid. Props."

"I—"

        Before I can respond, Stark pressing on. "You certainly have something special if Patchy willingly recruited you into S.H.I.E.L.D."

        "Maybe I do, or maybe I don't, but that's hardly your concern," I retort.

        "You can't be more than what? Sixteen..." he paused a moment, seeming to stare more intently at me a moment. "Y'know kid, you really look familiar now that I've had a good look at you."

        Backtracking, I give a forced chuckle. "I have one of those faces."

        Tony Stark continues to stare like I'm some complex puzzle he's trying to unravel. "No, you remind me of someone. I just can't place it. Oh well, I'm sure it'll come to me soon enough." He waves it off.

        Internally I breathe a sigh of relief.

        Tony's just about to speak again when the door behind him opens. There Nick Fury stands still dressed in his black attire with a no nonsense look on his stern face. "Ah, there you are Miss Wallace. It's getting rather late, you should return to your room for the night and you Mr. Stark should be heading out. I'm sure Ms. Potts is expecting you."

        Looking at him gratefully, I nod eagerly at the request.

        "Yeah, I bet she is," Tony replies to the later of the statement, his eyes seeming to narrow slowly as he subtlety casts a glance between Nick Fury and I before gliding past Fury and out of the room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we go and it only took two months this time! Better than before right, I'm trying to keep up. Also, A Girl Named Panic will be celebrating it's 4 Year Anniversary and so I've started the special for it, it'll be called "Panic Stark: The Battle of New York" and I'm planing on it being a two or three parter, depending on how much I can weave it. It'll be posted June 16th of 2018. And I'll try to hurry with the next chapter.
> 
> As for Vortex and Nereza they're no longer aliens (fan who read the original series will know what I mean), but aside from that everything else is still as it was. Anyway, enjoy!


	12. An Eerie Sense of Familiarity

 "He recognizes me," I say the moment I step into the safety of my private quarters.

        The shock of being found by my  _technically_  father has left my brain in complete disarray. I hadn't mentally prepared myself for a chance meeting with him and despite that, it went rather well. Relatively speaking that is. We didn't kill each other at least.

        I know we met at the Stark Expo, but that was only a brief encounter. There's no way he could remember my face from that right? That was a couple months back at least and I didn't do anything to outstanding to be noticed. I gave him his phone after snooping through it of course. No, that must mean he notices familiar features that he's seen before.

 _Like the one's he sees in the mirror everyday?_ The more cynical thought presses.

        The last thing I need is for Tony Stark to start digging his nose in business he has no purpose being in. While technically he does have the right to know that he sired a kid, he didn't seem to care much about what the potential result could be by having careless casual sex with various women.

        Hell, I might not be the only one. Maybe I have a flock of half-siblings wondering each portion of the globe.

        It wouldn't surprise me. Honestly it's more surprising that he doesn't have a ton of women claiming him to be the father of their children, of course there have been a few to make the statement. Those all proved negative when DNA tests came back.

        Tony Stark probably had a team dedicated to preventing such incidents. The guy was far from father material and he certainly didn't want the responsibility of some germ-ridden, snot nosed, wailing brat clinging to him. Protocols set in place, like slipping Plan-B into drinks and offering astronomical amounts of money to terminate any resulting pregnancies.

        Biting my bottom lip, I can't help but feel ill at the thought.

        Of course these are all baseless theory, but logically it would make sense. What would he have done if Mom told him she was pregnant with me? Would I even be  _here_  right now? Or would Stark have ensured I was terminated...?

        It doesn't matter, I insist. The troubling thoughts still plague me.

        Huffing with frustration I spin in my retreat to my room and instead start to the Training Ground to hit the punch bags. Maybe that'll keep my mind off of Tony Stark and help me vent these feelings at the same time.

        Nearly an hour later, Agent Romanoff finds me. My red hair is pulled back in a messy ponytail, my fingers have lost all feeling in them by this point even though they were wrapped in bandaged, an overabundance of sweat slicks my skin like oil, and my damn thoughts are still fixated on the troubling assumptions.

        "There you are, Director Fury sent me to find you. Stark has offered up the use of his tower for S.H.I.E.L.D. and the other Avengers. He mentioned something about Stark Towers having better security. At this point, I'm inclined to believe him. We need to be packed and ready for departure tomorrow morning."

        My heart stops, figuratively that is. "What? Stark Towers, we're all staying there now, why?"

        "Stark was sure to emphasize how much easier it'll be to for us to work together to subdue Jedidiah Stane and defeat Vortex with us closer together. While personally no a fan of the idea, it's something that can't be helped. If staying a week or two at Stark Towers means bringing down this new threat, then that's what I'll have to do. That's what S.H.I.E.L.D. does."

        "And Fury just agreed to this, no protesting what so ever?"

        Agent Romanoff lifts a brow. "He certainly wasn't thrilled, but with JARVIS at Stark Towers able to sift through thousands of encoded encryption and watch over the satellites it provides more time for us on ground work."

        "Fine, I'll be packed by daybreak."

        I expect to hear the sound of her leaving, but instead she moves closer. Examining my expression, "You're not pleased."

        "You could tell huh? And I just tried  _so_  hard to hide it. Maybe those spy lessons are a failed endeavor," I reply, overt with my sarcasm. Gathering my bearings, my fists connect with the bag again. The repetitive thumps dulling the building pressure in my chest.

        "It's not hard to tell, you hate Tony Stark and have gone out of your way to avoid him, and the other Avengers. The only people you interact with is myself, Agent Barton, Director Fury, and the few S.H.I.E.L.D. agents of high rank. It's as if you  _don't_  want people to notice you."

        Turning away from the bag, I huff. "That's so not true, I've just be very busy. That's all."

        Her eyes narrow. "Sure it is. I am so sure that Stark has nothing to do with your suddenly hesitant demeanor."

        Chancing a glance, I realize how alone I really am. No one around to give me any advice, maybe I can't trust her entirely, but maybe she—with a past like her's—might have some piece of advice. "What do you do when you know something no one else does? When that secret has the power to destroy everything?"

        "That depends on the nature of the secret. In life, you have tough choices. The hardest one's to make are usually the right one's. That's what a friend show me, it's also been proven through experience. The main reason I came was because I knew something was bothering you. A theory about it has been in the back of my mind, but recent events have made it more apparent."

        Sighing with frustration, I realize how tired I am of the useless banter. "What exactly are you trying to say Romanoff, it seems that you  _think_  you know something. If you be so helpful as to enlighten a silly little girl, it'd be greatly appreciated."

        Natasha Romanoff straightens up, her arms crossing her chest. Her red hair curls around her pale face, making her appear all the more intimidating. "Are you Stark's kid?"

        The air was knocked from my lungs, my chest heavy and burning life fire. Of all the things I expected, that wasn't one of them.

        "W-what?!" I gasp the word.

        Romanoff moves closer, catching my face in her hand. Only one holding it in place, her finger dig into my cheeks and I appreciate it. The dull pain enough to keep me grounded in the chaos currently storming my thoughts.

        "There was something strangely familiar about you, that first moment when I was sent to retrieve you for Director Fury. I couldn't place it earlier, you had many traits to sift through. You are sarcastic, rebellious, don't like to follow orders, unpredictable, defensive, overconfident, intelligent. Most of those I attribute to Tony Stark's personality, you resemble him quite a bit.

        "Not to mention how quickly Director Fury took you under S.H.I.E.L.D. protection. I knew you must have some valuable skill if he allowed a fifteen year old girl to take part in S.H.I.E.L.D. activity. The way you avoided Stark, adding your earlier encounter with him proved it. You may lie if you'd like, but it doesn't change the truth."

_**...** _

        Headlines after headlines, news footage galore, and newspaper clippings one after another and another.

        All these conflicting status's of the great Tony Stark, each showing new aspects of him that most couldn't imagine. All the articles gushing over a heartless billionaire changing his entire life around to save the little people in a suit of armor. A  _hero_.

        Is that what a hero is? To correct the mistakes of oneself after the fact, once you take the time to look into your own company? Perhaps he's changed the way he operates his company, ceasing the manufacturing of weapons, but his personality is still firmly intact. Still an immature, self-destructive, careless alcoholic with a sarcastic edge to keep people at arms length.

        Not father material.

_Like you would know that, he doesn't even know about you!_

        So what. It changes nothing as Tony Stark isn't the sort a man who has a germy infested, snot-ridden kid chasing his heels.

_Maybe not in the past, but now..._

        Now when he finally has his life pulled together, dating a woman he seems to actually like, cleaning up his act, only to have an unwanted brat dropped onto him and throw his new life into disarray?

_Whose to say he wouldn't want a chance now that he's finally settled down._

        Me, that's who.

        "Am I really arguing with my own thoughts...?" I mumble aloud, if I wasn't crazy before, I surely am now.

        On the list of people who know my deepest secret: obsessive manic Jedidiah Stane, cult leader Nereza, pirate Fury, and now deadly ex-assassin Romanoff. Whose next? Agent Johnson who sells baked goods on the third floor?

        Why not, everyone else and their mother knows...

_Now you're just being dramatic._

        Huffing, I shove the tablet away from me. I'm going to drive myself loony at this rate. It feels like my whole body was dipped in wet cement that's now hardening, leaving my thoughts sluggish and stuck in the same issue. Even when I manage to escape the issue of Agent Romanoff discovering my secret, it turns to my encounter with Mr. Stark himself.

        How his eyes had narrowed ever so slightly as he shoot a knowing look between Fury and me.

        Almost as if—as if he knew something.

_Of course he did, you behaved like a guilty child._

        On the verge of yanking my hair, it's saved in the nick of time by the door to my quarters opening. Agent Romanoff stands on the other side of the now-open doorway. She's dressed casual, not fancy black catsuit today.

        Dark jeans, a plain top, brown boots, and her red hair curling around her face. "Director Fury sent me to collect you. It's time, are you packed?"

        My bottom lip twitched slightly, wanting to be under my front teeth. I resist the urge. "Yeah, I packed everything last night. Wasn't too hard y'know, I don't have too many belongings."

        Natasha Romanoff seemed to hesitate a moment before stepping further into the room, the door shutting behind her.         "Okay, I'm only going to say this once so listen up. Despite our  _differences_ I will not tell Tony Stark about... you. That's a messy situation that I want no part in. Your secret is safe with me, but you might want to work on keeping your cool, I can tell your worrying. That'll make the other suspicious."

        Without another word, she turns and starts for the door.

        "Thank you..." I mumble at her back.

        She pauses at the door, give a stiff nod without turning her head. "I'll be at the main floor, do hurry. Director Fury isn't in the mood for delays." With that, she steps through the door and out into the hallway.

        Taking a deep breath, I pull the suitcase out from under the bed and sigh. "Lets go to hell..."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here was are, chapter twelve completed. So this is a sort of filler/development chapter to lets things settle in a bit before the craziness hits. Next chapter will push us on the path to discovering Vanessa Wallace's (Panic's mother) connection to Jedidiah and Obadiah Stane. Anyways, enjoy and hopefully I'll get chapter done soon!


	13. Hanging at Stark Towers

        It was a long drive through the familiar streets of New York City. Traffic was terrible, as usual, and the lights of the looming buildings twinkle like stars against the night sky. Natasha Romanoff is seated beside me, pressed close to the left-side window.

        Staring out at the velvet night, I couldn't help the bubbling sense of homesickness.

        Not that my crummy little dwelling could really be considered a home, but it's the closest thing to one I've got. There was a time before all that, one that I don't like to remember. The last place I felt any sense of belonging. The last five years has felt like a wandering that never had an end in sight and even this 'homecoming' of sorts feels like another stumbling through.

        There's another part of me, (the side I've told to shut up multiple times already), is excited.

        Stark Tower's is one of the most recognizable places in New York and not many people get the opportunity to take a peek inside. This way I'm getting a full invitation to this place that's always loomed over me. A place that—if things between my parent played out differently—I would be able to inherit.

        Just as we start to near the building, Natasha Romanoff straightens in her seat with her attention turning to me. She rifles around her pocket for a minute before she pulls out something that greatly resembles a watch.

        "This is a communicator. Director Fury wanted your to have one now that we're off the S.H.I.E.L.D. base, he said something about you having a knack for finding trouble unexpectedly. There are four numbers on this, each one linked to a separate communicator. Fury is 1, I'm 2, Barton 3, Hill is 4. Press the button and speak loudly and clearly and say clear when finished. That will send the message."

        "Okay, thanks," I reply, taking the communicator from her and strapping it to my wrist. It was a thin little thing with four little oval shaped buttons with a number stamped into it.

        The driver pulls the car up to the tower which shines almost blindly. Both the doors open as Natasha Romanoff steps out one side while I do the same on the other. Our driver has already climbed out from his seat and has started pulling out what little luggage we have. Two suitcases, one for Natasha and one for me. Mine comprised of the few items bought for me by S.H.I.E.L.D.

        Taking the handle of the suitcase, I'm just about to follow Natasha Romanoff when a crinkling sound fills my ears. Reaching down, my fingers press against the front zipper pocket of my suitcase and the crinkling continues.

        Unzipping the pocket, I yank the paper out to look closer at it.

        A folded sheet of ripped computer paper is pinned in black ink with a fancy handwritten font. A note with a message for me:

        There was once a story to tell, lost to years and forgotten by all. Deceased along with its creators, if you wish to uncover the truth a bit of sleuthing is what you'll require. A long time ago printed pages were recorded, locked away in a storage. Not in public custody or readily available, check the forgotten lot near the fallen rubble. Vanessa and Obadiah: a friendly relation, both who worked hard to hide the biggest secret. That is all I can give. Best wishes and luck for now.

~ Anonymous

        "Panic, are you coming?" Natasha Romanoff calls, her voice far away.

        "Y-yeah, Yeah I'm coming," I reply, the words sounding distant even in my own ears. Folding the note back up, I fold the note back and turn stiffly on my feet and follow after her, the note ringing loudly in my ears.

        The elevator opens in an open area that greatly resembles a living room, aside from the huge glass pane windows and the fully stocked up bar situated off to the side. Two couches are situated in a circular pattern around each other.

        "Greeting Ms. Romanoff, it has been quite awhile and welcome Ms. Wallace. I was informed of the time frame to expect your arrival by Mr. Stark. Accommodations have been made for your stay already," a British voice sounds overhead.

        Even with my prior knowledge of the AI system, I still blink twice to rid the stunned feeling from my limbs, I turn to Natasha Romanoff when she speaks.

        "That's JARVIS. He's an AI that Stark created to run this tower and his home in Malibu. The poor thing."

        "Now wait just a minute, I am a wonderful person who JARVIS lives to please. Right JARVIS?" a new male voice chimes in from the doorway beside us. Turning to face the voice, my stomach drops at the sight of him.

        It shouldn't surprise me, it is his tower after all. Of course he would be here, we were invited here by him in the first place. But even with prior knowledge of the facts, it doesn't stop my hands from getting clammy or nerves to set it. Being so close to him and with the secret of mine... I shake my head. No need to think of that right now.

        My palms find their way to my thighs to rub the sweat away.

        "Whatever makes you feel better Sir," the AI replies solemnly.

        If offended, the man shows no indication choosing to step further into the room. "If you were wondering Legolas is somewhere around, I wasn't really paying attention. And old Capsicle and Point Break should be here anytime, but you know how long it takes for the elderly to get around."

        Tony Stark is just about to plop down on the leather couch beside him when the elevator behind Agent Romanoff pings. Turning, I see Steve Rogers step into the room with Bruce Banner beside him.

        "There's the relic we were looking for and Green Giant. I'd guessed Hammer Man, but I can work with this. One of two isn't half bad. About time too, I was waiting for you, didn't want to take the ladies around and make you feel left out of the tour of the place now that Reindeer Games hasn't destroyed anymore of my property."

        "Really Tony?" Steve Rogers sighs, running a hand through his hair. He turns his attention to Agent Romanoff. "Natasha," he says in way of greeting. "And?"

        Realizing he means me, I smile and hold a hand out. "Panic Wallace."

        He takes it and give a shake. "You seem a bit young to be working with S.H.I.E.L.D."

        "Well I—" I'm just about to come up with a clever lie when Tony cuts me off.

        "That'a your name huh? Strange."

        "Well fortunately I didn't ask your opinion of it," I retort, unintentionally.

        Tony ignores me and starts a lecture of the building, deciding that we all most certainly care about his new goal for clean energy to power the structure. Don't get me wrong, clean energy is great and all, but it's late as hell and that last thing I want is a lecture on energy. A bed and blanket would be more preferable. Natasha Romanoff looks like she's ready to roundhouse kick him.

        "Are we expected to give a damn, because I left all those at home. Along with whatever patience I had to begin with. Let's be honest Mr. Stark no one care about your stupid tower. We're here against our will."

        "Do you have any idea how big this is for the world kid? Completely clean energy that power all the lights in the tower, all TVs, anything normally powered by electricity. This is something great."

        "Maybe you should take this conversation up with you fellow nerds, I'm out."

        Spinning on my heels, I start for the elevator brushing past Agent Romanoff with her disapproving look. I step into the elevator when the door swings open and I hear Tony Stark's voice.

        "Do you even know where you're going kid?"

        Smiling coldly at him, I reply: "Top ten floors for research and the basement's filled with cars so I'd assume the guest rooms would be on level twelve, am I right?"

        I press the button and the door shuts, leaning back heavily against the railing behind me. The lift drops lower and lower, the moving weight feels like led against my already clammy skin. My fingers twitch involuntarily the closer it gets.

        When the elevator stops, the door opens to reveal a long and quite narrow hallway with doors littered every which way. It looks like a hall on a cruise ship with just a bit more space to breathe. Stepping out of the lift, I walk past the rooms. Noting the shiny metal plaques on the doors which tell whom resides there. One for Banner, Thor, Rogers, Barton, and Romanoff.

        Further down from those are the nameless plates, only designed for guest stays with nothing personal about them. Opening the door to the first nameless room I find, I slip into the darkened room. Light suddenly fills the room, most likely JARVIS sensing me in the room.

        There's a queen sized bed pressed against the wall to my left, adjacent to a fancy looking wooden desk just under the window on the wall far in front of me. There's a rug laid across the floor and landscape portraits in golden frames lining the dull blue walls. Hauling my measly bag of miscellaneous items over to the comfy looking chair in front of the desk, I unzip the bag.

        A large dresser is pushed against the wall on the right, so I throw my cheap clothes in haphazardly. They don't even take up an entire drawer.

        Sighing, I press my face in my hands. That was rude, what I did up there. With everything happening I should be focused on stopping Jedidiah and this Vortex group, but being here in the tower with him is making me uneasy. I don't belong here. In this tower. With all these people. This money and fame and fortune...

        Shaking my head I straighten myself up at the sound of my door opening. I don't even need to turn around to see who it is. Natasha Romanoff shuts the door as she moves further into the room and presses her hand against what looks like a control panel. She move away quick and silently as she makes her way over to where I've wandered to.

        "I don't understand you. That guy up there," she points at the ceiling. "Is your father, regardless of him knowing or not, and you decide that irritating him is the best way to build a relationship? Or are you trying to make him dislike you?"

        "I— it's not like that! He's just... I'm not. It doesn't matter okay, like you said he doesn't know and I don't want him to know. I've never exactly been the most likable person in the world and I'm not good with people."

        "You're scared. Terrified even, of what would happen if anyone found out. It's the entire reason you're working with S.H.I.E.L.D. because Director Fury has this secret held over your head. From what I can tell, you've got more in your past then this, but that's not for me the delve into. Your past and your secrets are for you to keep, but don't let your past define your future. That's all I can say."

        With that she turns and steps towards the door and just as she's almost through, I clear my throat.

        "Why are you doing this? I know Fury gave you strict orders to keep an eye on me, but I doubt the advice was a requirement."

        "I told you what you needed to hear, nothing more. It's important that you keep a clear head, especially with whatever's coming up. Don't forget that you're needed at your best."

        "No. That's not it, you meant something a little deeper. Like you want me to tell Tony Stark the truth, to tell him about me. Right?"

        Natasha Romanoff pauses at the door, running a hand through her red hair. "I've spent so many years trapped in the past, even now. I don't want to see you cage yourself the same way I have. To confine yourself to the way it is and forget to look towards something better... My parents—my father is dead. I'd give anything for one last word, one final moment. You never really care until it's too late to change anything. Don't have any regrets. Goodnight."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so I finally finished this chapter. I don't really like the interaction between Tony and Panic, but it's taken forever to write this chapter so I'll post it anyway so I can move on and can come back and rewrite their interaction here, so yeah... Anyways, hopefully I will get the next chapter up soon. See you next time!


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